


The Tether

by deadlifts



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe: Anti-soulmates, Blood and Violence, Happy Ending, Injury, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, No Byleth AU, POV Claude von Riegan, smut in epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 12:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 36,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30038790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlifts/pseuds/deadlifts
Summary: Claude was born bearing what the people of Fódlan call an "enemy mark," a rare phenomenon that brands two people as predestined enemies.When Claude discovers that Dimitri shares his mark, he schemes his way into Dimitri's life, learning all he can about his strengths and weaknesses. Everything goes according to plan, except for one problem: Claude's own feelings begin to get in the way of his goal.An anti-soulmate AU
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 57
Kudos: 96
Collections: Dimiclaude Big Bang 2020





	1. Pre-Timeskip

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Dimiclaude Big Bang, with scenes beautifully illustrated by [mezzo](https://twitter.com/OnionPax) and [Soalandy](https://twitter.com/Nerd_Landy), my artist partners for this project. Each of the pieces will be labeled with links to their Twitter, so please consider showing them some love!
> 
> A big thank you to both mezzo and Soalandy for being such great partners in this project (and for bearing with me when RL got a little crazy for me in the middle of writing this). An extra thank you to mezzo giving me the idea of using Claude's and Dimitri's name etymology for the symbolism of their marks. And thank you to everyone who encouraged me throughout writing this. When things got tough, that kept me going <3
> 
> Before reading, please note the following warnings: This fic contains descriptions of blood, injury, poisoning attempts, and violence (including violence between the two main characters). There is no Byleth in this AU. The fic does end happily and the epilogue contains explicit content.

It starts with an accident. 

Claude is so accustomed to keeping secrets by the time he prepares to leave for Fódlan, he's not at all fazed when his parents give him the terms for his departure. _Tell no one of us,_ his mother says. His grandfather says it as well, once Claude arrives on Fódlan soil: _No one must learn of your parentage_. Even Nader says it before he departs, patting Claude on the head before leaving him in a strange land without any support: _Keep your secrets, kiddo._

He's already knee-deep in secrecy before he sets foot in Garreg Mach, so it's easy to add another aspect of his birth to the list — to apply yet another layer of protection to keep from being targeted by those who would see him dead. He wears that protection both figuratively and literally — arming himself with deflections and smiles, and ensuring that every piece of clothing he wears covers a certain spot on the inside of his upper arm. 

That spot bears a symbol that only he and one other person share. It is a promise that defines Claude's future; it is a reminder that somewhere out there is a person who will attempt to get in between him and his dreams. He protects his arm as thoroughly as he protects his heart, and reveals neither to anyone. 

Claude keeps his secrets alone. 

Those secrets are why he wants the Sword of the Creator. They're why he digs into Fódlan's history, attempting to amass knowledge on the church and its relics. They're why he's walking back to the dorms late at night with six thick books in his arms — books that, as one of his fellow students is perfectly happy to point out, "should not be removed from the library." 

Upon hearing this, Claude stops to adjust his grip on the books, looking up the dormitory stairs to see Dimitri staring down at him. Dimitri has also stopped walking to regard Claude. It feels like a standoff. 

"If it isn't his royalness himself!" Claude exclaims cheerfully, resisting the desire to set the books down despite their weight. "Aren't you going to do the princely thing and help me carry these to my room?" 

Despite the question, Claude hopes that Dimitri will decline; he doesn't want Dimitri to notice the titles of the books. 

Tonight, Claude's reading list is about one topic only: _enemy marks_ , as they are called in Fódlan, the rare phenomenon that brands two people as predestined enemies. 

Each book in his pile delves into their history: a thick volume on shared enemy marks across the ages, an account of the marks' suspected divine origins, a lengthy text on famous conflicts that resulted from shared marks, and even a book dedicated to the marks borne by Riegan crest-bearers over time. He isn't keen on Dimitri noticing the common theme, as it will only lead to questions Claude will not answer. 

Dimitri frowns at him — slight, but disapproving. "Those do not belong in your room. They are meant to be read in the library." 

He's right. The books are supposed to stay in the library, due to their age and valuable historical content. Claude had to sneak them out. 

Claude says, "It's just for a night or two. No one will notice they're gone." More importantly, if they do notice, they won't have any proof to tie their missing status to Claude. 

Or they wouldn't, had Dimitri not paid close attention to the books in his hands. 

"Why do you need them?" Dimitri asks, as though he wants to give Claude the benefit of the doubt — as though he wants to consider that Claude may actually have a good reason for temporarily stealing from the library. 

He does, but he trusts Dimitri the same as anyone else: not at all. 

"You know me," Claude replies, though Dimitri does not know him at all. "Always up to no good." He rolls his shoulders, trying to keep his arms from fatiguing. 

"I do not believe that," Dimitri replies quietly. "Not always." 

The earnestness of Dimitri's voice is mildly surprising, but Claude shrugs it off. "I'm flattered to hear that. But these are heavy, so if you don't mind —" 

He doesn't wait for an answer. He moves to walk past Dimitri. In an effort to avoid shoving him as he walks by, he ends up tripping over his own feet. 

When he tries to regain his balance, the first book falls off his stack. Dimitri reaches to catch him by the elbow before he falls as well, but his well-meaning grasp is a little too tight, a little too unexpected. Claude's knee-jerk response is to flinch away, but he suppresses that, instead only tensing at the hold. By stiffening, he only makes matters worse for himself. He loses his grip on all but the bottom book; the rest fall down the stairs. 

Wide-eyed, Dimitri releases him. "I apologize. I only meant to —" 

"It's fine," Claude replies, eager to cover up his lapse. He forces out a laugh, bending to pick up the books. They're a mess — facedown with stretched spines. "I guess this is why they don't let us take these out of the library." 

"Let me help you." Dimitri heads down the stairs to retrieve the books that made it to the bottom. 

"Don't worry about it. I'll pick them up." 

By the time Claude finishes his protest, Dimitri already has one of the books in hand. "This is a book on your family." He looks up. "On your family's enemies." 

"There's nothing in there I don't already know," Claude replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But I thought, why not see how the family gossip is told to future generations?" 

Dimitri is now examining the other titles that are strewn about. "Claude…" There's a tinge of surprise in his voice, mixed with something like sympathy. "Do you have a mark?" 

Whether due to the unsteady feeling of being found out, or perhaps because of the subject being addressed out loud, the mark along Claude's inner arm seems to itch in response to Dimitri's question. Claude resists the desire to rub it. "Can't a guy do some light reading on the subject without being branded?" 

Dimitri places the book neatly on the stairs, then reaches for another. "I have one." 

Claude adds his book to the pile. He forces himself to remain neutral. "They say all great people do." 

At least, that's what Claude has been told most of his life. Back in Almyra, marks are considered boastworthy due to their rarity, and because they indicate that a significant challenge is in the bearer's future — a battle that will either lead to the bearer's demise or his success as a warrior. They are worn openly, proudly, and shown off at every opportunity. 

Claude has spent most of life looking for the one who shares his mark. And despite every assassination attempt, every hateful glare thrown in his direction, every cruel word spoken to him, Claude has never set eyes on a mark that matches his own. 

And that, ultimately, is why he is researching everything he can on enemy marks. Somewhere out there is a person who will attempt to get in between Claude and his dreams — and he cannot allow that to happen. His hope is that by familiarizing himself with the historical patterns of shared marks, he will narrow down the possibilities of who shares his mark and decide what to do about that person in the process. 

Dimitri places the last book on top of the stack. "I know you did not grow up as an heir. Your mark must not have weighed on your mind as much as it does now." 

Claude chooses his excuse carefully. No one in Fódlan knows he has a mark — not even Judith. As soon as word gets out, Claude will have a target on his back. Again. "It isn't for me. I'm curious about my dear old grandfather. Did you know he has a mark and hasn't even met his predestined enemy? Lucky guy." 

"I had not heard that about Duke Riegan, though I am not surprised. Marks may be rare, but most of Fódlan's leaders are born with one. And many of them have lived and died without knowing who shared their mark." 

Claude had read as much already. It stands out as one of the big differences between Almyra and Fódlan. In Almyra, the open discussion and brandishing of marks prevents secrecy; most people meet their predestined enemy head-on in battle. Here in Fódlan, however, two predestined enemies could be working against each other in the shadows, without the other ever knowing how they were being sabotaged — or by whom. It is likely his grandfather killed his predestined enemy years ago, despite never setting eyes on his mark. 

This is both a benefit and a concern. Living in a culture that doesn't encourage the exposure of marks means that Claude can keep his hidden, potentially giving him an advantage. It also means that discovering who shares his mark will be a challenge. 

"I'm surprised he isn't scrambling to find out who his enemy is," Claude remarks, though knowing his grandfather, he likely did at some point in his life. He's too ornery to sit around quietly waiting for disaster to strike. "Aren't you curious about yours?" 

"I did not think much of my mark for a long time," Dimitri admits. 

Claude knows enough of Dimitri's history to grasp at the shreds of meaning behind that statement, but still asks, "What changed?" 

"I will be a king before long." He says it as though the statement is practiced on his tongue, a small, feigned smile on his face. Claude recognizes it as forced because he, too, often wears false smiles to stave off questions that cut a little too deep. "It would be foolish for me to not at least consider that someone out there may not want me in power." 

Claude feels a twinge of regret for asking, knowing that he scraped at something raw, especially considering that Dimitri has been nice enough to discuss the subject with sensitivity for Claude's position. "Sorry. Sometimes I let my curiosity get the better of me." 

Dimitri's smile turns genuine. "It's quite alright. If you do have a mark, you should know you are not alone in your concerns." 

Claude is taken aback by the consideration in that statement — and by the way Dimitri bends to pick up four of the books from the stack before Claude can lift them on his own. He laughs to cover how he internally falters at Dimitri's kindness, and chooses to deflect it instead. "Have you decided to take pity on me and help me carry these to my room after all?" 

"Only for tonight," Dimitri replies as Claude scoops up the remaining two books. "Next time, you should read books like these in the library." 

"I'll do my best," Claude replies cheerfully as they head up the stairs together. 

Now that he has confirmed Dimitri has a mark, Claude must add him to his slowly growing list of potential enemies. It's hard to imagine someone so considerate and mindful of Claude's mysterious upbringing would be his enemy, but Claude is intent on remaining logical and unbiased as he searches for the person who will try to bring him down. 

But once Dimitri hands over the books and bids Claude a good night of reading, Claude decides to label him as a low priority suspect. Compared to those who regard Claude with suspicion and question his motives, such as Lorenz, Dimitri doesn't seem to doubt Claude. 

And after a lifetime of being doubted, Claude finds it hard to believe that one of the only people to regard him with uncomplicated kindness would be his enemy. 

Before he heads to his own room, Dimitri smiles. Claude finds himself smiling back without pretense. 

* * *

Every morning, as he dresses for the day, Claude spares a glance for his mark. He holds out his arm and looks at the symbol that has set a course for his life in a manner similar to his parentage: a promise of difficult trials ahead, of having to prove himself, and of fighting to survive. 

Once, when he was a child, he ran to his mother with bloody knees and a bruising cheek. Fresh out of a fight in which he was very much the underdog, Claude had to bite his lip to keep from crying. He had been teased and taunted, shoved and smacked, until he finally managed to escape. 

"You must fight your battles without crying, Khalid," his mother had told him, noticing the unshed tears in his eyes. "Do you think the person who shares your mark cries when they are hurt?" 

Claude had looked at his arm, the symbol threatening in both its size and appearance. Marks as a whole were rare, but elaborate marks were even more scarce among bearers. Whereas most were typically small and simple in design, Claude's was larger and more detailed than any he had seen before: a looping design of vines and leaves that moved from vibrant to wilting and back again, interconnected. 

"What does it mean?" Claude asked, trying to distract himself from the sting of the cloth that his mother used to wipe his knees. "Nader told me all marks have meaning." 

His mother stopped wiping his knees to look at his mark. She traced the symbol, moving her finger along the loops. "It is your namesake," she had said. " _Khalid_ means eternal, and this symbol is ongoing without end. It is infinite." 

"Infinite," Claude had repeated, unhappy. He already knew what it was like to go through ongoing struggles, seemingly without end. "What about the leaves?" 

"They are caught in a cycle of life and death," his mother continued. "And that is why you must become strong. This is a warning. You do not want to be stuck in a cycle with your enemy. Failing to destroy them is weakness." 

Claude had silently wished he wasn't born with a mark, just as he had so often wished he wasn't born different from everyone else. But he was destined to fight for himself and his dreams, an ongoing cycle, just like the leaves along his arm. 

Now, as he dresses in his Academy uniform and prepares himself for the day, he no longer wishes to be free of his mark. Instead, he silently resolves to overcome all obstacles — and survive. 

* * *

Claude's to-do list is long and seemingly never-ending. In addition to school, training, and group tasks, he has his own personal research claiming much of his attention, often at the sacrifice of sleep. He also works hard to keep his own secrets while digging into the secrets that others hold close to their chests. All in all, he's very busy, and will only grow busier once the Battle of the Eagle and Lion — which he intends to win — is upon them. 

Busy or not, he must still make time for the occasional scheme aimed at discovering who shares his mark. It is a priority no less important than the other tasks necessary for protecting himself, ensuring his future, and satiating his desire for knowledge. 

This is why, after a long day of weeding duty, Claude does not go straight to the baths or steal away to his favorite tree for a nap. Instead, he follows a certain someone's voice to the fishing pond, hiding himself beside the stall to listen. 

"I was absolutely shocked," Lorenz is saying, tone haughty as ever. "To think I am supposed to believe he is a noble. With manners like that!" 

"Have you tried educating him on the responsibilities of nobles?" Ferdinand asks. "If he did not grow up in the Riegan household, he may not know the proper way to behave." 

"He has no interest in learning. It is appalling." 

"Perhaps you should consider joining the Black Eagles," Ferdinand suggests. "Edelgard is no match for me, but she knows proper decorum." 

"I wish that I could consider it but I am afraid of what may become of the Alliance if I am not there to keep an eye on him." 

While Ferdinand murmurs sympathetically, Claude rolls his eyes. Of course they're discussing him, and of course Lorenz has nothing but complaints. His view sure is lofty for someone who has not even tried to get to know Claude beyond the occasional argument or harsh judgment of his actions. 

Not that Claude has done much to change his opinion. In fact, he's about to worsen it by proving Lorenz right with a small scheme that will hopefully lead to him shedding his Academy jacket and bearing his arm for all to see. 

"Uh oh," someone suddenly says from behind him. "I know that look." 

Claude turns to find Hilda observing him with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised. 

"You're up to no good, aren't you?" 

"A small scheme," Claude admits with half-shrug. "Nothing crazy." 

Hilda joins Claude in his cover, peeking around the stall to see what has his attention. "Lorenz? Really? He's already upset that he found you stealing from the kitchens the other night." 

"I was hungry," Claude argues. In truth, he had not been hungry at all, but had been pilfering food for one of the wyverns in the stables — a spirited animal who will not yet allow anyone to ride her. Claude is determined to be friends. "It was none of his business." 

"Well, whatever you're planning here is about to be his business. And he isn't going to like it." 

"You've got me." Claude puts his hands up in surrender. "Although, now that you're here, I have an idea on how to keep him from finding out I'm involved with this." 

Hilda immediately shakes her head. "Absolutely not. I'm not doing your dirty work for you." 

"Not even if I do your chores for a whole month?" 

That makes her pause. "All of them?" 

"All of them." 

With a heavy sigh, Hilda relents. "Fine. But it better be easy." 

A few quick instructions later, Hilda is making her way over to Lorenz and Ferdinand with a worried look on her face. "Lorenz! I'm so glad I found you. Could you please help me with something?" 

"Of course! What is it you require?" Lorenz straightens. Ferdinand takes a step back to allow Hilda to approach. 

"It's this stain on my uniform. It's just awful! I've tried everything to get it out but…" She bites her lip. "Here, why don't I just show you — oops!" Hilda steps forward to brandish her skirt at Lorenz and in the process _accidentally_ trips and pushes him. 

He falls back, right into the fishing pond. 

"Oh no!" Hilda exclaims. 

"Lorenz!" Ferdinand calls. "Are you alright?" 

Lorenz is busy sputtering in the pond, grappling for purchase on the pier. 

Ferdinand drops to his hands and knees and reaches out a hand. "Allow me to help you." 

Lorenz grabs his hand and allows himself to be hoisted up to the pier while Hilda stands by and watches with a frown. 

"That was…" Lorenz begins as he stands there soaking wet, struggling to maintain his composure. He clears his throat. "A surprise." 

"I am _so_ sorry. Look at you — oh, this is all my fault." Hilda fusses over him without touching him, careful not to get wet herself. 

"It is perfectly alright," Lorenz replies stiffly. "It was an accident." 

"You're right. It absolutely was. Oh, what do we do about you?" 

"You must dry off," Ferdinand says. "It would not do for you to catch a cold." 

"No," Lorenz grumbles. "It would not." 

"Here, let me just…" Hilda finally touches Lorenz, just her palm set lightly against his chest. This causes Lorenz to cease any further statement, a blush creeping into his face. "I'm going to take your jacket off," she explains. "That should help." Without waiting for a response, Hilda deftly undoes the buttons of Lorenz' uniform jacket and pulls it off of his shoulders, leaving Lorenz in his undershirt. 

"I am not sure that this is appropriate," says Ferdinand, who is now also blushing. 

"What, this?" Hilda holds up the jacket. "I'm only helping — don't you feel better now that this is off of you, Lorenz?" 

"Yes," Lorenz says, his voice high-pitched. "This is...better." 

They exchange a few more words, Hilda promising to take care of Lorenz's jacket while Ferdinand helps Lorenz with everything else. Once the two boys are on their way to the dorms, Hilda rejoins Claude in his hiding spot, holding up the jacket. 

"What did you need this for, anyway?" she asks. 

"Oh, I didn't need the jacket," Claude replies. "You can go hang it up to dry like you said you would. I already got what I need." 

Because while Hilda was removing his jacket, Claude's eyes had been focused on the short sleeve of his undershirt — the way it exposed just enough of Lorenz's upper arm for Claude to see he bore no matching mark. 

Hilda makes a face at him. "I did not sign up to do Lorenz's laundry. You're taking it, whether you want it or not." 

Claude ends up with the uniform in hand and a warning that he will have to offer more insight into his schemes if he's going to keep enlisting Hilda's help in the future. She heads to the dining hall, while Claude decides to pester Lorenz with his still-soaked jacket. 

As he turns to the dorms, he finds himself facing Dimitri, who seems to be on his way to the dining hall. 

"Hello, Claude." 

"Hey, your princeliness. Heading for some food?" 

"Yes. It is time for lunch." 

"Good luck. I hear the menu's a little weak today." 

Dimitri gives him a small smile. "I believe I will manage." He then looks at the jacket slung across Claude's arm. "What happened?" 

"Oh, this?" Claude holds up his arm, brandishing the jacket. "I'm collecting jackets for a good cause. I don't suppose you want to add yours to the pile?" 

At that, Dimitri goes from polite to amused. "A good cause that requires students to strip out of their Academy uniforms? This sounds like a tall tale that would come from Sylvain, not you." 

"Nothing so underhanded," Claude replies with a laugh. "Jackets only." 

Dimitri chuckles. "I must decline. Perhaps next time." 

"Sure." Claude hadn't expected Dimitri to be so easy, considering how he insists on wearing gauntlets everywhere. He doesn't seem the type to be so easily tricked into dressing down. Claude could attempt to pressure him further, but he still considers Dimitri to be a low priority. Better to keep him on his good side for now. "I'll see you around, then." 

"Have a good afternoon." 

They walk in opposite directions. 

* * *

From then on, Claude employs various schemes to check his fellow Golden Deer — and even a few students from other houses — for marks on their arms whenever possible. He volunteers for chores that require sleeves to be rolled up high and he makes extra trips to the sauna. When he needs extra help with a scheme, he asks Hilda, though he keeps her in the dark despite her complaints. 

Hilda is smart, though, and Claude has no doubt she has a couple of theories as to why Claude is so intent on looking at his classmates' arms. She keeps them to herself for now, which allows Claude to continue to involve her as a partner in his schemes. It's nice. Claude isn't used to being able to rely on others for help. 

Despite his efforts, every time he manages to catch a glimpse of someone's upper arm, he finds no mark. 

It's a little surprising. Most of the Golden Deer have a vested interest in his future leadership, whether they want to assume control for themselves or plan on supporting him once he takes over for his grandfather; he had figured that meant his enemy would likely be among them. 

Though he has come up short among his classmates, it still seems unlikely to him that he would share a mark with someone outside of the Academy, as the Academy is where his secrets are most likely to be discovered and used against him. He therefore decides to continue looking among the other classes. 

That leads him to consider his fellow lords. 

He intends on starting with Edelgard. Though she will likely pose greater difficulty than Dimitri, her closed off demeanor suggests that she has some secrets of her own, similar to how Claude hides his truths under the layers of a front. He wonders if she is interested in tangling with Alliance affairs; it seems more up her alley than it does Dimitri's. 

He intends to begin working on her while the Blue Lions are away on their end of the month mission, but when the mission date arrives, his plans are thwarted before he can set them in motion. Manuela, the instructor for the Blue Lions, pulls Claude aside after class to ask for his assistance. 

"I know it's supposed to be a free day for you, but I'd like to bring another archer along for this one," she explains. "Hanneman tells me you're the best in his class." 

"I wouldn't mind stretching my legs," Claude admits, thinking about the rumor that Catherine and her relic would be joining the Blue Lions on this mission. "But I'm afraid I have plans." 

Manuela sighs. "I suppose I could ask Bernadetta, though I'm not sure if I can convince her to leave her room." 

"Leonie's good with a bow," Claude offers. 

"Alright, I'll check with her." 

Later that evening, while Claude is holed up in a corner of the library, reading a book on Edelgard's ancestry, Dimitri finds him. 

"I thought you would be here," he says as he approaches. 

Claude looks up from his book. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" 

"I have a request." Dimitri's expression is serious — a little grim, even. His shoulders are tense. 

"I can see this is going to be a heavy conversation." Claude shuts his book, then gets to his feet. "Why don't we grab a couple of chairs?" 

They take a seat at the nearest table. Claude leans back in his chair. "Ask away." 

Dimitri sits up straight, his body language formal. "Manuela mentioned you turned her down for mission assistance." 

"I did," Claude replies. "I have something to do that day." 

"I know your plans must be important," Dimitri says in a way that sounds entirely sincere, "but I wanted to see if you could postpone them." 

"Why ask me?" Claude folds his arms behind his head. "I'm not the only archer around." 

"But you are the best. You won the latest bow tournament, did you not?" 

Claude raises his eyebrows. "I didn't know you were keeping tabs on me, your princeliness. I'm a little flattered." 

Dimitri's cheeks gain color. "I enjoy watching the tournaments from time to time. Your form is especially interesting. You don't move like the archers I have known." 

Claude is both impressed by Dimitri's astute observation and a little thrown off by the earnestness with which he says it. He covers both feelings by asking, "Is your goal to flatter me into saying yes?" 

"No!" Dimitri exclaims. He lowers his voice. "No, of course not. That is a genuine compliment. But in regard to the matter at hand, I would like you to lend us your skills for the mission. I am —" He briefly hesitates. "Concerned about Ashe." 

"Because he's Lord Lonato's adoptive son?" 

"Yes. I have no doubt that Ashe will do his best out there, but I would prefer for it not to come to that." 

"I see." Claude leans over the table. "You want me to come so that you can keep Ashe from encountering Lonato." 

"I do." Solemnly, Dimitri adds, "I am willing to lend my services to the Golden Deer in the future, of course, to repay your effort." 

"That won't be necessary." 

"I see." Dimitri stands. "In that case, I apologize for wasting your time." 

"Hang on, I didn't say I wouldn't do it." 

Dimitri pauses. "Oh. Apologies." 

"I'll come. How can I say no to someone so concerned about his classmate?" Once again, Dimitri has proven himself to be both considerate and caring. Whereas Claude's interests tend to be focused inward, Dimitri is the opposite. Claude has to admit that he likes that about him. 

Besides, he's still hoping to see Catherine's relic in action. 

"I'll do it, no strings attached." He pauses. "Well, one string. I was supposed to fill in for Hilda on weeding duty that day. Do you know of anyone who could take my place?" 

"I'll find someone," Dimitri replies immediately. "Thank you, Claude. You're a kind person." 

"Aw, come on. It isn't much." 

"It is," Dimitri insists. "You will make a fine leader one day." 

For once, Claude finds himself speechless. No one here nor in Almyra has ever suggested he would make a good leader. Back in Almyra, his status as a royal heir came with the word _if_ attached to it: _if_ he survives, _if_ he manages to secure the throne, _if_ he doesn't stay in Fódlan. And here, he was only brought to the Alliance as a last-resort. 

He opens his mouth to respond and finds he has no cheeky response or adequate deflection. He simply says, "You will too," knowing it will be true, considering the compassion that Dimitri has for others. Likely, he will have much to learn as well; in time, Dimitri will have to harden himself to some extent, as he tends to be a little too considerate. But Claude hopes he doesn't fully lose the part of himself that sends him to libraries at night to implore for help on behalf of a friend. 

They bid each other goodnight. Claude watches Dimitri leave, wondering about Dimitri's mark and the path that lies before him. 

* * *

The march into Kingdom territory is miserable. Between the somber mood of the Blue Lions and the wet mists that chill the air despite the summer season, Claude nearly finds himself wishing he had stayed behind. It's understandable that everyone would be feeling down, considering the familial connection Lord Lonato has with one of their own, but other issues continuously surface as well. Felix cannot seem to stop glaring at Dimitri, Annette and Mercedes do not seem to be on speaking terms, and Ingrid keeps fussing at Sylvain for his behavior. Only Dedue seems to be a steady, unwavering beacon of support, alternating between comforting Ashe and asking after Dimitri's needs. 

It's a far cry from the liveliness of the Golden Deer. They may not all be friends, but they at least know how to keep up their spirits. 

"You get used to it after a while," Sylvain tells Claude after he's relegated to the back by Ingrid, who has apparently had enough of him. "The chill, I mean." 

Claude has his light cloak pulled tightly around him, his mouth and nose buried as far into the fabric as possible. "In the weather?" he asks. "Or the conversations?" 

"Ouch," Sylvain replies, though he smiles. "But that's fair. It isn't always like this but it's been a rough couple of months." 

"We've only been at the Academy for a couple of months," Claude points out. 

Sylvain makes a show of counting on his fingers. "Huh, you're right. Even so, it's really just because of these stupid missions they keep sending us on. It's one thing to route a few bandits…" He trails off. 

"It's another to send us after a student's family," Claude finishes for him. 

"You've got it." Sylvain glances toward Felix in time to see him storm away from Dimitri. "I wonder why Rhea thinks this is a good idea." 

"She thinks it'll make us stronger. If you can kill a classmate's adoptive father, you can kill almost anyone." 

"That's grim," Sylvain remarks, turning his attention back at Claude. He squints at him, as though trying to read between the lines. "And gives me the strange feeling of being an attack dog in training." 

Claude shrugs. "You won't catch me saying that Rhea's motives are questionable." 

"Me either," Sylvain replies innocently. "Although, it does make me wonder if I should consider switching classes. You know, avoid the next violent family reunion and all that. Is the Golden Deer accepting new students?" 

"Always. You'd fit right in too. Although, I have to say, we also get our share of questionable missions." 

"Hmm, I'll have to think about it." 

"Sylvain!" Felix calls, sounding very annoyed. 

Sylvain waves at him, which earns him a glare. Then he turns a grin on Claude. "Aw, who am I kidding? I couldn't leave this grumpy bunch behind." 

"Sylvain!" Felix yells again. 

"Coming!" Sylvain calls, jogging to catch up with him. 

Claude watches as Felix directs his attitude toward Sylvain, who seems to enjoy it more than he should. While Claude's attention is on them, Dimitri falls back to join him. 

"I must apologize," he says by way of greeting. 

"For what?" Claude asks. 

"The weather." Dimitri looks mournfully at the group before them. "And the company. I knew it would be a dour journey, but I did not anticipate so much arguing." 

"Last I checked, you don't control the weather. Or your classmates." Claude gives him a smile. "Besides, it's nice to see a different side of the world, even if it means cold mists and colder shoulders." 

Dimitri isn't moved by the statement. He sighs. "I had hoped everyone would keep their spirits up for Ashe's sake." 

"I don't know," Claude replies, looking toward Ashe. "It's kind of nice, in a way. Everyone is upset _for_ him. All this bickering is because they care. I bet Ashe knows that." 

Dimitri's eyes widen in surprise. "That is...not something I had considered." 

"Think about if it were you. How would you feel if your friends felt strongly enough about what you're going through that it affected all of them?" 

"Guilty," Dimitri replies immediately. "I would not wish that on them." 

"No, of course not," Claude agrees. "But if it happened, it would still be nice to feel like you weren't alone in your troubles, wouldn't it?" 

Dimitri's stare lingers on Claude's face for so long that Claude decides to look away, lest Dimitri manage to read something in his expression. The Blue Lions have the kind of friendship and loyalty that Claude has never — and likely will never — experience. The attitudes and arguing may be annoying, but they are both signs that Ashe's friends truly care. A small part of Claude is a little jealous of that dedication — and he does not want Dimitri to see that jealousy in him. 

"I suppose that is one way of looking at it," Dimitri says slowly, each word carefully weighed. "That is very insightful of you." 

"Nah," Claude replies. "It was just a thought. I could be entirely wrong." 

"It is a good perspective. I will keep that in mind." 

Meanwhile, Claude will do his best to put it out of his mind, because undoubtedly, his own sour mood is the result of witnessing the bonds among the Blue Lions — and the knowledge that Golden Deer hardly regard him as a trustworthy classmate, let alone a friend. 

* * *

The battle ends up being both messy and difficult. 

It would not be so challenging if the weather had lightened throughout their journey, but the sparse mists grew into thick fog, and now everyone is fighting under low visibility, risking encountering enemies by surprise. 

Manuela sends Dimitri ahead of the group to forge ahead toward Lonato and asks Claude to provide cover. Ashe keeps up the rear of the group, safe from encountering his adoptive father. 

Claude keeps close to Dimitri. If Dimitri were to tear too far ahead, Claude would risk shooting him instead of an enemy, given the way the thick fog swallows all but what he can see right in front of him. Unfortunately, keeping tabs on Dimitri is difficult; Dimitri's longer stride means Claude has to move quickly to keep up with him. 

It also means that while Claude is busy picking off an archer he barely sees through the fog, Dimitri manages to advance out of his eyesight. 

"Where'd you go?" Claude whispers, pressing onward with his bow at the ready. 

Instead of finding Dimitri, he sees a blast of bright light and hears the sound of singeing foliage. Then he hears a cry of pain, followed by the sound of someone collapsing. 

Claude immediately sends off two arrows in the direction from which the fire attack came. He hears a mage grunt and fall. There may be others, so Claude nocks another arrow while he heads to find the person — presumably Dimitri — who was struck by the attack. 

Claude has trouble locating him but searches until he hears a groan. He follows the sound until he comes upon Dimitri, flat on his back, his armor askew and underclothes tattered. From what Claude can see of the exposed skin of his torso, Dimitri has some fairly serious burns. His lance rests just out of reach. 

Dimitri moves his arm, attempting to reach it. 

"Try not to move too much," Claude tells him. "I've got you covered." He keeps his attention and bow aimed outward in case they are ambushed. When no additional attacks come their way, Claude calls out for a healer. 

"My lance," Dimitri says through clenched teeth and labored breathing. "If you would." 

"No can do, sorry," Claude replies, though he moves to crouch beside Dimitri. "You need to sit tight until Manuela or Mercedes find us. Until then…" He trails off to alternate between watching for enemies and taking inventory of Dimitri's injuries. The burns look painful, red and angry, and in some places, oozing. He winces in sympathy. "Better to stay still. You're in rough shape." 

Dimitri, it turns out, can be quite stubborn. He ignores Claude entirely, and extends his arm until his fingertips brush his spear. "If we are attacked —" he attempts to protest, voice hitching through the pain. He manages to grab hold of the spear and uses it to shakily prop himself up. 

"Don't underestimate how fast I can shoot my bow," Claude replies, his attention dipping to Dimitri once more. "Didn't you say I was the best? I —" 

The words die on his lips as soon as he sees Dimitri's outstretched arm. Beneath his spaulders, his sleeves have been burned away by the magic, leaving his upper arm bare for all to see. 

And see is exactly what Claude does. On the inside of Dimitri's arm, in the same place as Claude, is a mark that symbolizes the eternal, made entirely of leaves, some of which are vibrant, and some of which are wilting. 

  
Art by [Soalandy](https://twitter.com/Nerd_Landy)

Claude feels as though he's wilting as well. The slow-budding respect he held for Dimitri shrivels up and is replaced by shock, anger, confusion — and even a little fear. 

He had been lulled into a false sense of security by Dimitri's kindness, despite his desire to remain logical. He had been so tempted to write off Dimitri entirely, and why? Because of a few kind words? Claude chides himself for being foolish, because were it not for this accident, he may not have realized who Dimitri is until far too late. 

Claude is always one step ahead. He must be, or he runs the risk of losing everything. This coincidental finding is lucky, but next time, he cannot rely on luck. 

He must figure out what to do, now that he has found his predestined enemy. And then he must act. 

"Claude?" Dimitri asks, prompting Claude to ensure that his mask of neutrality is still in place. 

He smiles his practiced smile and pretends that everything is fine. He refocuses on looking out into the fog. He says, "Hang in there, Dimitri. Help is coming," and does not allow Dimitri to aggravate his injuries by helping him to his feet. 

He stands, covering his enemy from potential fire, as the fog seeps into his armor, into his clothing, and into his heart. 

"I've got you." 

* * *

As soon as the Blue Lions return to Garreg Mach, Dimitri is taken to the infirmary. The worst of his injuries were healed on the battlefield, but his burns are severe enough to warrant extra rest and observation. 

After Claude has changed out of his travel clothes and back into his Academy uniform, he visits Dimitri. 

The walk back to the monastery had been quiet and somber, even more than the walk to the battle had been. Conversations were spoken in hushed tones, and most of the murmuring was directed toward Ashe in an effort to comfort him. Claude remained at the back of the group, watching and thinking. 

And after mulling over what he learned during the battle, Claude made a decision. 

That decision is what drives him to sit beside Dimitri's bedside and offer him a comforting smile. It prompts him into patting Dimitri's hand when Dimitri gives him a weak smile and apologizes for causing him trouble on the battlefield. 

Claude's plan is simple: he will befriend Dimitri. 

He will keep Dimitri close so as to learn all he can about him. He will discover his strengths, his weaknesses, his goals, and his fears. He will continue to fight at his side at any opportunity, and he will continue to protect him, should the occasion arise again. He will offer support and, if necessary, accept support in turn. 

With this scheme in motion, Dimitri will come to trust him enough to see Claude as an ally and friend. 

And then, when the time comes for them to turn to blows, Claude will be armed with the knowledge he needs to win. 

* * *

Befriending Dimitri ends up being more challenging than Claude anticipates. 

This is due in large part to Claude's own shortcomings in establishing connections with others. It isn't that he's particularly bad at it, per se — he has a good understanding of people and he is sensitive to their struggles. But that isn't enough to inspire trust, and it certainly isn't enough to compete with the dynamic of the Blue Lions, which is seemingly both fraught with tension and yet close-knit in a way that escapes Claude as someone who grew up universally hated with no loyalty to keep him grounded. 

Friendship, Claude knows, is built upon a basis of trust. It involves offering information about himself, not just taking information from others. Claude needs to give a little in order for Dimitri to open up to him, and that's where he struggles most of all. 

Sure, he is guilty of dropping the occasional hint about his upbringing. In many ways, he hides in plain sight, not outright scrambling to keep his background a secret, but not offering more than a playful quip or obscure comment either. But that's different from connecting with people, from giving them real pieces of himself to create a mutual feeling of friendship, and he knows it. 

These struggles would be enough of a hurdle for him to overcome on his own, but as Claude attempts to really get to know Dimitri, he runs into another problem — one he did not originally anticipate. 

It turns out that Dimitri has walls of his own, which he hides behind polite smiles and formal speech. And when Claude extends his hand, he's met with courteous resistance instead of acceptance. 

Like now: Dimitri in the library, frowning over a book, looking as though he hasn't slept well in a few nights, showing both fatigue and disconcertion over his choice of reading material. And Claude, coming up behind him to peek goodnaturedly over his shoulder and playfully ask, "What are you reading?" 

Instead of offering an explanation or friendly banter, Dimitri closes the book and says, "Claude. Shouldn't you be in bed?" 

Claude walks over to the seat across from Dimitri. "I could ask you the same thing." 

"I find that reading helps me sleep." He keeps his hand over the cover of the book as he replies, but his effort at obscuring the cover is only partially successful. Claude can tell it isn't a school book. 

Of course, that only makes Claude more curious. "You know, it's easier to fall asleep when you read in the comfort of your own bed, instead of sitting in these uncomfortable chairs." He takes a seat, folding his arms behind his head. "I can help you carry a few books back, if you want. Like you did for me." 

"That's quite alright. I am perfectly capable of reading here." 

"Suit yourself," Claude replies, though he doesn't make a move to leave. He allows his attention to briefly drop back down to the book. 

After a moment, Dimitri speaks again. "I have been meaning to ask you. Did you learn anything?" 

"About what?" Claude asks. 

"Your family. And your grandfather's mark." 

"Oh, that." Claude hesitates, covering his delay with a yawn. This could be a good segue into sharing — an opportunity to give a bit of information, and maybe get some information in turn. He tries to come up with a reply that offers _something_ , without quite giving anything away, but his knee-jerk reaction to deflect overwhelms all other possible responses. "Nothing I didn't already know. Borrowing those books ended up being a waste of time." 

Dimitri nods, looking off to the side, examining the many books that line the shelves around them. "I suppose even church records have their limitations." 

Claude sits up straighter, more attentive now. "Are you looking for something?" he asks, feeling as though there is more behind that statement. 

For a moment, Dimitri looks as though he will answer, but like Claude, he resorts to revealing nothing. "No, not anymore." He stands, lifting the book and tucking it under his arm. "Though I suppose I should be looking for sleep, given the late hour. You should as well." 

"I will," Claude replies. "Eventually." 

"Good night, Claude." 

"Night," Claude calls as Dimitri disappears behind the library shelves to return the book. 

Feeling as though he's made no progress, Claude bides his time until he hears Dimitri leave — and then waits a little while longer. When he's sure Dimitri will not be returning, he walks among the shelves and attempts to find the book that Dimitri was reading. 

When he finds it, it turns out to be a historical ledger of church donations. 

Claude spends the night leafing through it, but feels no closer to learning anything about Dimitri by the time the sun rises. 

* * *

Though he makes little progress on getting to know Dimitri in a meaningful way, Claude keeps an eye on him — even going so far as to butt in on his meals and study times. And as a result, he attracts the attention of Dimitri's friends — one specific friend in particular, who walks into the Golden Deer classroom one rainy morning looking both wet and thoroughly annoyed. 

With no concern for the conversation that Claude and Hilda were having before his entrance, Felix steps between them and interrupts. "What are you up to?" 

Sylvain comes trailing in behind him, looking torn between amusement and concern. 

"Me?" asks Hilda. 

"She's trying to convince me to do her chores for another month," Claude explains. 

"Is it working?" Sylvain asks. 

Felix glares at him. 

"Nope," Claude answers. 

"He's planning something," Hilda says. "I don't know what yet, but I do know he's going to need my help." 

"And that help comes at a price, huh?" Sylvain asks. 

"Exactly," Hilda says, smiling sweetly. 

"Enough!" Felix looks irritated with all of them, which Claude has to admit is a little fun. "That isn't what I meant and you know it." 

"Okay, you got me." Claude puts up his hands. "What exactly can I help you with, Felix?" 

"Why do you keep following the boar around?" 

Hilda raises her eyebrows. "Dimitri?" 

"We're both house leaders," Claude explains with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We have house leader stuff to talk about." 

"I know you're up to something," Felix accuses. "Whatever it is, I'm telling you to stop now." 

"Is it so hard to believe that I want to be friends?" Claude asks. 

That earns him a variety of expressions in response. Hilda looks doubtful, Felix looks annoyed, and Sylvain is back to looking amused. 

"Besides," Claude continues. "From what I've learned about him, I'd say Dimitri could use a friend or two. Don't you agree?" This he directs specifically to Felix, who somehow manages to look even angrier. 

"He isn't your problem," Felix says. "Stay out of it." With that, Felix storms out of the Golden Deer classroom. 

"Yeesh," Hilda says. "Talk about grumpy." 

"He means well," Sylvain says, glancing back at the door. 

"Does he?" Claude asks. "Because it sounds to me like he needs to figure out his own feelings before he goes around lecturing others about theirs." 

"Feelings?" Hilda repeats. 

"You have to admit he does have a point," Sylvain argues. "I haven't seen you buddying up to Edelgard the way you've been trying to buddy up with Dimitri." 

"Funny you should say that," Claude replies. "I actually have a chess game with Edelgard this afternoon." 

"You do?" Hilda asks. 

Sylvain studies him for a moment, as though assessing his honesty, then grins. "Fair enough. All I'm saying is, don't go around breaking His Highness' heart. Felix might stab you if you do." 

Claude returns his grin. "I wouldn't dream of it." 

Sylvain nods and leaves the classroom with a wave. Once he's out of earshot, Hilda turns to Claude. "So. Dimitri. Spill." 

"There's nothing to tell," Claude assures her. "The Blue Lions are just being...the Blue Lions." 

"Sure, sure. But if you need my help..." 

Claude nearly declines. But then he thinks about his lack of progress and the newer problem of Felix and Sylvain keeping tabs on him. 

He asks, "You think you could set something up for me?" 

Hilda smiles. "Of course." 

* * *

Hilda's favors may come at a price, but they are worth it. They help Claude to stay out of the execution phase of schemes, allowing him to seem innocent of any involvement while still carrying out his goals. Claude is especially happy with her latest scheme — one that impresses even him, with all his experience in scheming his way toward results. 

Making a sacrifice in the name of having her chores covered by Claude yet again, Hilda offered to spar with Dimitri, who was surprised to learn that despite her unwillingness to work, she is a formidable opponent. They were well-matched — until Dimitri stopped holding back all of his strength and won by sending Hilda halfway across the training grounds. 

Horrified, Dimitri ran to help her and apologized profusely while Hilda attempted to brush dirt off of her clothes and walk on an unfortunately sprained ankle. After seeing her to the infirmary, Dimitri asked if there was anything he could do to help while she heals. 

Now Dimitri stands in front of Claude's room with a sheepish expression on his face, rubbing the back of his neck as he explains, "I must apologize. Because of my actions, Hilda is unable to celebrate your birthday." 

"I didn't even know she knew it was my birthday," Claude tells him. It's the truth — Hilda had neglected to mention she was including his birthday in her plans. 

Dimitri frowns. "Were you going to spend the day alone?" 

"I don't know," Claude replies. "Are you asking me out?" 

Dimitri's cheeks color faintly. "I — ah, yes. I suppose I am." 

Claude gives him a small smile. "Then I guess I won't be spending it alone after all." 

They spend the day at the market, admiring weapons and making small talk. It's initially awkward, but Claude manages to learn a little about Dimitri's weapon preferences and fighting style from their conversation. Claude is careful not to reveal too much about how he handles a bow or throwing axe, lest he reveal something Dimitri can use against him in the future. 

Eventually, they stop for a snack at a stall selling various meats, including some rabbit skewers cooked with Almyran spices. Claude points them out. "That's one of my favorite snacks. Want to share one?" 

"What does it taste like?" Dimitri asks. 

"Spicy. A little too spicy for some, but if you don't mind that, it's very good." 

Dimitri insists on paying since it's Claude's birthday. They split the skewer, and Claude is surprised when Dimitri seems unfazed by the spice, as the vendor was very generous with it during cooking. "You know how to handle your spice. I'm impressed." 

"It does not bother me," Dimitri tells him. "I am lucky in that regard." 

That strikes Claude as a little odd, because even accustomed as he is to Almyran spices, he feels the heat and wouldn't mind a drink to wash it down. He watches Dimitri eat, formulating a theory in his mind. 

"Do you taste the sweetness underneath?" Claude asks, testing him. The meat isn't sweet at all. "They went a little overboard." 

Dimitri nods in acknowledgement. "It is excessive." 

Claude doesn't show his triumph. Instead, he files away his conclusion for a later time when it may prove useful: Dimitri cannot taste. 

And an enemy that cannot taste food will certainly not be able to taste substances placed in his food. 

By the time they walk back to the monastery together, Claude finally feels as though he's learned a little about Dimitri — and that he might be on a path toward learning more. When he looks at Dimitri and Dimitri responds with a smile, Claude decides to count the day as a success. 

And when Dimitri guides him to the Golden Deer classroom, where everyone — Hilda included — sits among decorations and presents, yelling out an enthusiastic, "Happy Birthday!" Claude can't help but feel a little positive about his future, despite the mark on his arm that aches as though to remind him of its presence. 

"I didn't expect this," he quietly admits to Dimitri before joining the group. 

"You have a lot of friends, Claude," Dimitri says. 

On the surface, perhaps. But true friendship is impossible for him, the outsider caught between two worlds, branded as such by the blood that runs through his veins — and the mark that prevents him from trusting in the concept of uncomplicated kindness. 

"Including you?" Claude asks. 

"Yes," Dimitri replies earnestly. "I do consider you a friend." 

"Good! Then I hope you'll stay!" Claude calls as Raphael walks over to pat him on the back and steer him toward the center of attention. 

Dimitri does stay — and Claude counts that as a win, too. 

* * *

After Claude's birthday, he and Dimitri settle into a kind of friendship. Rather than exchanging polite hellos and then going their separate ways, they pause to talk to each other in passing. They read side by side in the library and take meals together. Claude wouldn't say he learns more about Dimitri quickly, but little by little, he is able to find out more about him — and his friends. 

They form this newly established relationship just in time, because when the Blue Lions are once again facing a battle with a family member of one of their own, Dimitri does not hesitate in asking Claude for help. 

"I do not know if I should say this," Dimitri says one night leading up to the battle. He and Claude are seated on the library floor, books in their laps, but neither of them are reading. 

"You can tell me," Claude assures him. 

Dimitri nods. He is beginning to trust Claude, which has been Claude's plan all along. Now that he's faced with it — and the promise that his trust can grow — Claude tries to harden his heart to how that feels. 

Because having spent his life without allies, knowing that he isn't the type of person to easily inspire feelings of trust in others — he finds that he likes it. And he feels a little guilty about misleading Dimitri, too. 

But this is about survival. This is about gaining the upper hand over someone who would gladly bring about his end. So Claude gives Dimitri more reasons to trust him, and Dimitri accepts them in turn. 

"Sylvain and his brother share a mark," Dimitri explains quietly. "I am worried for him." 

"Two brothers sharing a mark," Claude says, trying to keep his tone relatively neutral. He remembers when he was younger, he feared that he would discover one of his half-siblings was his predestined enemy. And then later, after his half-siblings turned cruel, being surprised that they weren't. "Terrible." 

"It is going to be a dangerous battle. If anything should happen to Sylvain..." 

"Do you want me to join you for this one?" Claude asks. "I could keep an extra eye on him." 

"Would you?" Dimitri asks. "You helped me so much last time. It would bring me comfort to know that you are covering him." 

"Sure. I'd be happy to help, especially if it eases your mind so you can focus on the battle. Leave Sylvain to me." Claude reaches out and pats Dimitri's arm. Dimitri looks down at it, then back up at Claude. 

"You're a good friend, Claude," Dimitri tells him, reaching to briefly cover Claude's hand with his own. He gives it a very careful, subtle squeeze before letting go. 

Claude tries to harden his heart against how those words feel, too. 

* * *

Days later, Claude witnesses Sylvain and his brother attempt to kill each other. He watches Miklan transform into a beast and strike at Sylvain, injuring him. He covers Sylvain with a volley of arrows, distracting Miklan long enough for Sylvain to land a killing blow. 

He watches as two predestined enemies fight to the death. And then he sees one emerge as the victor — battered and emotionally worn down, but alive. 

And Claude steels himself for the future before him. He doubles down on his resolve to use everything he learns about Dimitri to his advantage. 

Later, he visits Sylvain in the infirmary and finds Felix sitting beside him. Felix glares at him, as he often does. "What are you doing here?" 

"I just wanted to see how he's doing," Claude replies. Sylvain is asleep and looks a little pale, but his breathing is steady. 

"He'll be fine," Felix says firmly. 

"All this because of a mark," Claude murmurs. 

"It isn't because of his mark," Felix snaps. "Miklan was a terrible brother from the beginning, and would have been that way whether he and Sylvain shared a mark or not." 

"I doubt it helped." 

Felix narrows his eyes. "Anyone who allows their mark to dictate what they do with their lives is an idiot." 

"With an opinion like that, I'm guessing you don't have one." 

"I do," Felix replies. "And it makes no difference. Either I meet my enemy on the battlefield or I don't. It doesn't matter and it won't change what I do with myself." 

Claude mulls this over, thinking that Felix's opinion comes from a place of security. It's easy not to care about your enemy if you haven't grown up trying to survive attempts on your life — if you haven't seen firsthand the creative ways that people will try to crush you and your dreams, simply because you're different. 

"What?" Felix asks when he gets tired of Claude staring. 

"I was wondering if Sylvain would agree with you, considering he had to grow up knowing that his worst enemy shared his home and his parents." 

Felix stands up quickly. "If Miklan had tried to be a decent brother, Sylvain would have accepted him, mark or no mark." 

"All this yelling," Sylvain mumbles in a hoarse voice. "Can't you see I need my beauty rest?" 

"Leave," Felix tells Claude as he pulls his chair closer to Sylvain. 

Sylvain gives Claude a weak smile. 

Claude says, "Feel better soon," and leaves the infirmary. 

He goes to the library, where he finds Dimitri sitting at a table with no book in hand. He looks restless. 

"I got banned from visiting Sylvain," Claude explains as he takes a seat across from Dimitri. 

Dimitri replies, "Felix sent me away, too. That is why I came here." 

"Sylvain will be okay after some rest." 

Dimitri nods. 

They fall quiet for a while, simply sitting there. 

Eventually, Claude asks, "Do you think things would have been different between Miklan and Sylvain if they didn't share a mark?" 

At that, Dimitri smiles a little. "You have been talking to Felix." 

"Yeah." Claude leans back in his chair. "He seems to think that marks don't matter." Claude has the desire to rub his, but resists the impulse. 

"Felix does not like the idea that he has a path laid out before him that he must follow. He wants to make his own way." Dimitri's smile fades. "I hope he is successful, but historically..." 

"History proves that marks result in a big conflict." Claude finishes for him. "And that conflict results in death." 

"Yes." 

"What about you?" Claude asks. "What would you do if the person who shares your mark reached out their hand in friendship?" 

Dimitri pauses as though choosing his words carefully. "I would like to say I would accept their friendship, regardless of our marks, but I am afraid I do not think that would be possible for me. Given what I have been through and the path that lies before me, I would struggle to believe the person who shares my mark had my best interests in mind." 

It is what Claude expects to hear — and it is exactly how he feels about his own mark and the fact that it's Dimitri who shares it. And yet, once those words are spoken, all he feels is disappointment. 

Because Dimitri is correct — and because Claude knows there is only one path for them to take. 

"I'd probably feel the same way if I had a mark," Claude says quietly. 

"Although, if that were to happen...I would always wonder," Dimitri adds. 

"What could have been?" Claude guesses. 

"In a different life, perhaps." 

* * *

A few days later, Hilda takes him to tea — forcibly, considering that Claude was on his way to enjoy a nice nap under a tree before he was accosted. 

"What is your favorite tea, anyway?" she asks as she sets a few snacks out on the table. 

"Almyran pine needles." 

"Oh really?" She narrows her eyes. "I'll be back in a moment, then." 

Claude makes himself comfortable until she returns with the tea and serves them both. It's rare that Hilda puts forth some effort without asking for anything in return. 

Claude has no doubt that she has an ulterior motive. 

"Alright, what is it that you want?" Claude asks after sampling his tea. 

"Is it so hard to believe that I just want to catch up?" Hilda asks from behind her teacup. 

"No," Claude replies. "But making me tea on top of catching up is a little unusual." 

"Oh, fine." She sets down her cup. "I wanted to ask you what's been going on lately." 

Claude gives her a skeptical look. "That's all?" 

"Is this what it's like to be you? Having someone doubt your good intentions all the time?" 

"Actually, yes." 

She folds her arms. "Well, I'm being serious. You seem a little distracted lately. Distracted for real, I mean, not your usual way of pretending to be distracted." 

"I happen to be very serious about my distractions." 

"Claude," Hilda groans. 

"Alright, fine." Claude sighs, deciding there's no harm in being a little honest with Hilda. She has been a partner in crime these past few months. And she, at least, doesn't have an interest in taking over the Alliance or sabotaging him in any way. "I may have a couple of things on my mind." 

"Is it Dimitri?" she ventures. 

"Why would it be Dimitri?" 

"You've been spending a lot of time with him lately, and even when you aren't spending time with him, you watch him." 

"And you watch me?" Claude asks with amusement. 

"I mean, that's kind of my job, right? I am your retainer." 

"Are you?" Claude gives her a smile that feels closer to genuine than his usual. "I thought you were looking to pawn off that job to anyone who would take it." 

"That was before." 

"What changed?" Claude asks. 

"Ugh, are you really going to make me say it?" She makes a face. "You've grown on me, fake smiles, secret plans, and all. And it helps that I usually benefit from your schemes, too." 

"I'm touched." 

"I'm not saying I'm going to work extra hard or anything, so don't get too excited." 

"Not excited at all." He drops his smile in favor of a neutral expression. "See?" 

" _Anyway,_ " Hilda emphasizes. "We were talking about Dimitri. This isn't —" She stops, and then adjusts her phrasing. "This is a little more than just a scheme, isn't it?" 

"It might be a little personal," Claude offers. 

"I knew it." She thoughtfully taps her fingers on her teacup. "And I can tell that whatever it is that you're going to do about it, it's a bad idea." 

"You don't know what I'm trying to do yet," Claude points out. 

"But I know you. Somewhat." She looks up at him. "Enough to know that there will be collateral damage." 

"What's life without a little risk?" Claude asks, forcing a carefree smile. 

"Just don't ask me to clean up your mess when you're done," Hilda warns. 

"I wouldn't dream of it." 

"But really...if you want to talk about whatever it is, I'm here." 

He thinks about it for a moment. A fleeting moment, wherein he considers what it might be like to reveal himself to someone who seems to care — to show his mark, to explain what it means to him both personally and culturally, and to share the burden that comes with his upbringing. 

But Hilda is still a Goneril and Fódlan still has its borders shut tightly against differences — and Claude still has his dreams. 

"There's nothing to talk about." 

"Fine. Let's share some gossip instead. Did you hear that Lorenz lost that fake flower he always wears? He looked everywhere for it. It turns out he left it under a tree, and by the time he found it, it was soaked from all that rain we got last week. Absolutely ruined." 

"I'm surprised no one found it for him, with how busy this place always is." 

"Or maybe they found it and just didn't feel like dealing with Lorenz," Hilda says. 

"Very possible." 

"He needs to take better care of his things." 

"Didn't you lose an entire bottle of perfume last month?" 

"Excuse me, that was a unique situation." 

"Sure," Claure replies, not buying it at all. 

The banter is nice, but Claude is eager for some time to himself, so as soon as he finishes his tea, he excuses himself, putting distance between himself and Hilda once again. 

* * *

By now, Claude is so accustomed to intentionally seeking Dimitri out in their usual meeting places, that he's caught completely off guard when Dimitri finds him in one of Claude's preferred haunts. Claude's napping tree is hardly a secret retreat, but this is the first time Dimitri has visited him in this spot. 

What makes it especially unusual is the late hour. The moon is high in the sky and air has chilled slightly, a sign of the Verdant Rain Moon's approach. Claude is wrapped in a light cloak, his back set against a tree, and his eyes look upward, at the stars — until he hears Dimitri approaching. Then he turns his attention on him and his sombre expression, his lack of a cloak, the way he looks more burdened than usual. 

"Couldn't sleep?" Claude asks quietly, scooting over so Dimitri can share his tree. 

Dimitri stops before him but does not yet move to sit. "Not tonight." 

"Me either." Claude nudges his elbow toward the spot he made for Dimitri. "Want to sit?" 

Dimitri hesitates, but ultimately gives in, sitting beside him. Despite the chill in the air, he radiates heat. Claude feels himself drawn to it. 

"How did you know I'd be here?" he asks. 

"I did not know for sure but...I remembered you mentioning you enjoy the outdoors and watching the stars." 

Claude feels warmed by that statement. Once again Dimitri has proven to be a good listener, putting care into learning about Claude. And as always, the feeling of growing friendship makes him pause. 

But for now, he decides to let his usual schemes slide. Under the night sky, in the quiet darkness, with their marks hidden, he can pretend. 

"You remembered right, your princeliness," he says quietly, giving into the impulse to lean against Dimitri — against the arm that bears the mark that they share, against the way their fates are irrevocably twisted, despite kind words and warm feelings. 

"I would prefer that you call me Dimitri." The murmur is equally quiet, barely audible over the wind that picks up around them. 

"Dimitri," Claude whispers. He isn't sure if Dimitri hears him over the whistle of the wind throughout the branches of the trees. 

They remain like that for some time. It grows cooler, but Claude hardly notices with Dimitri beside him, against him, a beacon of warmth against the night. It almost feels comfortable — could feel comfortable, if Claude allowed his guard to lower. 

If he closed his mind to all other possibilities. 

Eventually, Dimitri speaks soft, halting words. "Do you ever feel alone?" 

Claude feels the air prickle around them, the moment threatening to shatter. "What do you mean?" 

Dimitri leans his head back against the tree, directing his attention upward. "As a leader with a burden on your shoulders, knowing that a time will come where you have to make decisions you may not wish to make. Do you feel alone?" 

Claude chooses his words carefully, his guard back in place. "Don't tell me you feel that way, with all those Blue Lions ready to rush to your aid at any moment." 

Dimitri falls quiet again. 

"Sorry," Claude whispers, knowing that he has it wrong — knowing that being surrounded by friends who throw surprise birthday parties or accompany a leader on questionable missions doesn't mean the leader is free to be himself — to be known. 

They both wear masks. They both hide and pretend, so they can survive to claim their thrones. And they are both alone. 

"I —" Claude tries, knowing that he can use this, can twist words and meanings and establish himself as an ally, a friend in more than just words. He attempts again: "Sometimes —" 

But Dimitri cuts him off. "You do not need to tell me. I should not have asked." 

Claude doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to reveal himself enough to cultivate a friendship without creating collateral damage. He knows that it is not just Dimitri's delicate trust at stake, but also his own feelings — his own growing desire for something more than the lot he was handed at birth. He wants more than a kingdom and a mark — more than the destruction of everything in exchange for a dream. 

He wants to achieve his goals and see this through. But he also wants this: the way he hesitantly takes Dimitri's gauntlet in hand, and the way Dimitri links their fingers together, as though this moment is all that matters. 

As though everything else will melt away when Claude looks at him and says, simply: "Yeah, I do." 

Dimitri nods and very carefully squeezes his hand. Claude squeezes back slowly, belatedly, and tries not to think about how every kindness afforded to him has always ended in pain. 

He tries not to think about his dreams or the cost of his success, because right now, in the cover of darkness, it's easy to pretend this is all that matters: the strong grip of a hand in his, and if only for a moment, the understanding that blooms and grows between them, two leaders who carry burdens far heavier than they'd ever admit. 

* * *

Later, he and Dimitri walk back together, their fingers still intertwined. Claude shivers and Dimitri silently moves closer to him until they are huddled together, a single unit against the harshening elements. 

"Do you have a dream?" Claude asks as they near the monastery. "Something you want to achieve, no matter what?" 

"Yes," Dimitri replies. "Do you?" 

"Yeah," Claude replies, though he doesn't elaborate. 

"I have no doubt you will achieve that dream," Dimitri tells him despite not knowing what it is. 

Claude thinks about his path to success. He thinks about how it will be forged over Dimitri's body, the solitary and bloody means of achieving long-term peace. 

"You have a lot of faith in someone you barely know," Claude points out lightly, pulling away from Dimitri and releasing his hand. 

Dimitri accepts their separation. "I thought I had faith in a friend." 

_Friend,_ Claude thinks, and inexplicably feels like laughing. 

His mark aches. His heart aches too. 

They reach the dormitory. Torchlight illuminates their way as they enter the hall. They pause atop the stairwell and look at each other. 

"What is your dream?" Dimitri asks. 

"Will you tell me yours?" Claude asks instead of replying, cocking his head, examining all the ways in which Dimitri communicates earnest interest, while hiding secrets of his own. 

Dimitri does not reply. Claude does not press. 

And in the end, they retreat, untouching, caught in a stalemate — alone. 

* * *

In addition to his own personal research, Claude has both studied and trained in preparation for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. He has done his best to motivate the Golden Deer out of bickering and into unity — a task that would be easier, in his opinion, with a more dedicated professor, but that he manages to pull off on his own. Even Lorenz decides to concede to Claude, if only for the promise of glory. 

The Golden Deer therefore face the battle together, as a team. 

It feels like a win — an advancement toward the success that Claude hopes to achieve. For once, his dreams seem close and attainable. 

As everyone gets into position, Claude surveys the field, watching as the Blue Lions walk into their formation. He locates Dimitri among the students. Despite the distance, he is able to see him give orders and the way his fellow students obediently respond. Even Felix listens without complaint, grasping his sword and readying his stance. 

"Are you worried?" 

Claude turns, facing Leonie, who looks at him with a grin. 

"Me?" he asks. "Never." 

She laughs. "You know, Lorenz was going on and on earlier about how your friendship Dimitri is going to get in the way of victory." 

"Do you think that?" 

She shakes her head. "No way. I don't think Lorenz really believes that, either. He's just being Lorenz." 

"It better not get in the way!" Lysithea calls from a few feet away. "Or you'll get to see firsthand just how strong I've grown over these last months." 

"Have some faith in your leader!" Claude calls back. Then to Leonie, he says, "What if I told you I was getting to know Dimitri all this time so I could beat him here?" 

She stops smiling, her expression turning serious. "I'd say no way to that too. I know you're like to scheme, but —" 

"Um, hello?" Hilda calls from her position some distance away. "Did you forget what we're doing here? Get into position!" 

"We're going!" Leonie calls. "Good luck out there, Claude. You'll do great." 

"We'll do great," Claude qualifies. 

Leonie grins. Then she moves to mount her pegasus. 

Claude does his best to clear his mind, taking several calming breaths. Rhea's speech echoes around them, but he tunes it out, focusing only on the battle at hand. 

Then it begins. 

Despite their training, the Golden Deer get off to a rocky start. Edelgard's forces drive at them, then attempt to lure them back to where Hubert awaits with magic at the ready. At first, Lorenz and Raphael fall for the trap. They attempt to follow the troops through the brush, but Claude calls them back. To his relief, they listen. 

Claude sends them and a few others around the hill, an approach that will take time and leave them exposed to the ballista, but they will have more of an advantage by approaching from the open than by walking into Edelgard's trap. 

Meanwhile, he directs Lysithea and Hilda to follow him toward Dimitri's troops, ducking under cover whenever possible. He is also vulnerable to the ballista, but he hopes that Lorenz and Raphael will keep the attention away from him. 

It works. While Claude is nocking an arrow, he hears the ballista fire, but the arrow soars toward Raphael, rather than aiming for him. 

A Blue Lion approaches them. Hilda makes quick work of him with her axe, then turns to Claude. "Did you just use Lorenz and Raphael as bait?" 

Claude grins and shrugs. "Lorenz wanted to be the center of attention." 

"Enough talking," Lysithea scolds them, sending a blast of magic toward another student. "Dedue is coming this way." 

Claude looks and sees that she is right. Dedue has them in his sights, and despite his size and armor, he is quickly gaining on them. "He's all yours, kiddo," he says to Lysithea, knowing that the _kiddo_ will make her angry, which will give her a boost of energy to face off with Dedue. 

She aims an attack at Dedue, who dodges and continues to approach. "As soon as I finish him, you're next!" she promises Claude. 

"Better hurry, then!" Claude calls. 

Once again, he ducks into the brush, hoping to avoid being an open target. He hears the beating of wings and looks up to see Ingrid above him, but instead of diving toward him, she heads toward Hilda instead. 

"I got her!" Hilda yells, lifting her axe. 

Claude advances with his arrow still nocked. He aims at Felix, who fights with Petra close to Dimitri. As Felix narrowly lands a winning blow on Petra, Claude releases his arrow. It pierces his armor and would be a killing hit, were it not for the measures the professors took to avoid fatalities in this battle. It therefore effectively ends his participation. 

Felix glares toward Claude as he drops to his knees. 

Claude is now close enough to see Dimitri's concern, the momentary distraction over Felix, who says something scathing in response. Claude nocks another arrow, aims at Dimitri — 

— and is forced to drop his bow as fiery rocks rain down upon him in a Reason attack so fierce, he only escapes from serious injury by sheer luck. He manages to react quick enough to side-step out of the way, and ends up mildly singed. 

But it takes his attention away from the battle for too long. Someone — he doesn't see who — sends an arrow soaring at him and this time, Claude cannot step out of the way. He takes it in his shoulder, just above his mark. 

He grunts and nearly loses footing, stumbling forward gracelessly until he nearly collides with Dimitri, who raises his lance. 

It's the end for Claude — he is without his bow and he doesn't have time to pull out his throwing axe. He only has the arrow in his shoulder, which he grasps to keep it from jostling too much as staggers on his feet. 

"Claude," Dimitri murmurs, his lance poised to kill, but his face free of his mask. He looks unhappy, concerned, but also resolute — ready to force himself to do this. 

"Dimitri," Claude says cheerfully in response, despite the hitch in his tone that betrays his pain. 

Perhaps because of the strain in Claude's movements, or the surprise elicited by Claude painfully yanking the arrow of his shoulder and gasping as it pulls free, or maybe it's because of the use of his name, the way Claude speaks it as though it deserves to be spoken, free of titles — 

Whatever the reason, Dimitri hesitates. And that momentary hesitation is all Claude needs to take the arrow he pulled from his shoulder and stab it into Dimitri's chest, piercing as deeply as it will go. 

Dimitri is considered a fatality and is called out of the battle. 

Dimitri registers this with surprise, and then anger. With a roar and a show of strength so uncontained, Claude has the distinct sense of losing control over the situation — over Dimitri and perhaps, over himself — Dimitri shoves him to the ground and stabs him with his lance. 

* * *

The Black Eagles narrowly win the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, despite Claude's best efforts to regain the upper hand. Although he was permitted to fight on after a quick bout of healing, as Dimitri's attack was disqualified due to his own "death" prior to it, by that point the Golden Deer lost direction. In the end, Claude was taken out by Bernadetta, and without him, the Golden Deer and remaining Blue Lions were picked off one-by-one until the Black Eagles were declared the victors. 

Though unhappy with the results — less because of the loss and more because of his own shortcomings as a commander — Claude calls for a feast. All houses attend. 

The feast itself starts a little awkwardly, with classmates sticking together, but once they begin eating and drinking, the students end up mingling more freely. Before long, everyone seems to be having a good time. 

Claude enjoys himself as well, eating his fill and chatting with everyone, but he notices that whenever he attempts to speak with Dimitri, Dimitri's attention is claimed by someone else. Claude soon accepts that he's being avoided, which bothers him more than he should. His trick with the arrow was dirty but fully within the rules of the battle — and Dimitri's reaction was equally dirty, considering that he had already been ruled out of the battle. 

And yet, Claude feels unsettled — even a little guilty over it. 

He's had years of practice trying to survive through any means possible, and this should be no different — should _feel_ no different. His survival — in staged battles and real battles both — may come with a cost, but it is a cost he must pay. Guilt shouldn't be a factor. 

But he thinks that he can't exactly fault Dimitri for throwing him down and stabbing him — all things considered. 

Claude waits until the feast dies down and then settles in a corner, announcing his desire to nap. He waits until no one is paying any attention to him, then slips out in search of Dimitri, who left the feast a little earlier. 

He finds Dimitri at the fishing pier, standing at the edge of the dock. His attention is set on the water. Claude stops when he sees him and watches for a moment. Dimitri looks gentle, pensive, and alone in the isolation that comes with being a leader with a goal — and with an enemy watching his every move. 

Claude decides to leave him to his thoughts, thinking that he has done enough to disrupt Dimitri for one day. But as he moves to leave, Dimitri turns and sees him. 

"Claude?" he asks. 

"Hey!" Claude calls, enthusiastic despite feeling caught. "What are you doing out there on the pier? You know, Lorenz fell in there a while back. Better watch your step." 

Though the area is lit by lanterns, Claude can't quite make out Dimitri's expression from where he stands. He thinks he sees the pull of a frown, the creasing of a brow, but it could just be the shadows. 

"Why are you here?" Dimitri asks. 

"Ouch," Claude replies, placing a hand on his chest. "You're tired of me now, huh?" 

"What?" Dimitri takes a step forward, then stops. "No. I meant — shouldn't you be at the feast?" 

Since Dimitri does not seem to want to approach him, Claude decides to cover the distance instead. He walks toward him until he can make out the features of his face, confirming that he is indeed wearing a frown. "That's the last place I should be. If I eat another bite, I'll explode." 

"Your friends will look for you." 

"And what about your friends?" Claude asks. 

Dimitri looks up, past Claude and toward the dining hall. "I do not think they will follow me out here tonight." 

"I followed you," Claude points out with a smile. 

Dimitri looks back at him in surprise. "Yes. I suppose you did." 

Dimitri's stare feels heavy and uncomfortable. Claude would deflect and look away, but that would betray his discomfort — and maybe even tip Dimitri off to his guilt about his actions during the battle. He stubbornly holds his stare. 

They speak at the same time. 

"I —" Claude begins. 

"Claude —" Dimitri overlaps him. 

They both stop talking. Claude rubs his neck. Dimitri clears his throat. 

"You first," Claude offers. 

Dimitri nods. "I must apologize for how I attacked you after my loss was called." 

"Nah. You had every right to be upset. It was a little dirty of me." 

"No," Dimitri replies. "In a real battle, you fight to survive. That is what you did." 

That has always been Claude's approach to fighting — survive by any means necessary. Whether running from bandits or provoking Dimitri into hesitation, Claude will do whatever it takes to be the one who walks away from a battle. 

No one has ever praised him for it. 

And yet, here is his predestined enemy, telling him he did right — offering understanding and blaming himself for his loss. Never mind that Claude has tricked him into a friendship with an ulterior motive; never mind that he strategically used his name at the height of conflict. 

Claude should feel triumphant. 

But he doesn't. 

Dimitri says, "I should not have hesitated. Had that been a real battle —" He cuts himself off. 

"But it wasn't," Claude says. "So no use beating yourself up about it." 

"Even so," Dimitri protests firmly. "You fought admirably, Claude, and I behaved dishonorably." Dimitri turns so that he's looking out at the water. Claude only sees his side profile now, but the tension in Dimitri's body is evident. 

Claude touches his arm, then gives it a light squeeze. "Dimitri," he says, using his name once again, but this time without an ulterior motive. "Look at me." 

Dimitri faces him once again. Claude allows his hand to linger. They look at each other. 

"You're telling me that I had every right to do what I did, right?" 

"Yes," Dimitri replies quietly. 

"Well, I'm telling you that you had every right to be upset about it." 

They're close. Claude hears Dimitri breathing in and out. He feels his arm relax in his grip. 

"You are very kind, Claude." 

Claude laughs by force of habit. He doesn't feel amused. He feels — strange, facing someone who even now, still manages to see the good in him. 

"Do you know how good _you_ are?" He releases Dimitri's arm and instead reaches to touch his face, a slow brush of his fingers along his jaw. 

_It doesn't make sense,_ Claude thinks. It isn't fair. 

To have had this: a glimmer of understanding, a hint of acceptance, and the look of surprised fondness. 

All from the one person he is not supposed to touch — the one person for whom he shouldn't feel this budding feeling of affection, an ache that only seems to grow. 

Dimitri leans into the touch subtly, as if not fully aware of how he gravitates. Claude cups his cheek, gently, just as Dimitri tries to be gentle with him. 

It isn't clear who starts it — whether Dimitri leans in first, or Claude rises on his toes before he can — but the end result is undeniable. 

Standing out on the fishing pier, in the low torchlight, Claude and Dimitri kiss. 

  
Art by [Soalandy](https://twitter.com/Nerd_Landy)

The kiss itself is chaste and brief, a light contact of lips that lingers only for a fleeting moment, before they both step away with faint color in their cheeks and the awkward knowledge of hindsight. 

Dimitri says, "My apologies." 

Claude's mark burns. He feels it, hot and unrelenting, under his sleeve. He doesn't know what he wants more: to snuff out his mark or to stifle his heart. 

In the end, he does neither. He simply says, "Try to get some rest tonight," and walks away, hoping that distance will quell the hammering of his heart. 

* * *

After the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, there is a shift in the monastery environment, a foreboding sense of change that descends with the Red Wolf Moon's icy chill. As word of the madness in Remire spreads, class missions grow more dangerous. It seems to Claude that Rhea is preparing them to clean up this new mess — and he has a sneaking suspicion which class will end up being put at the forefront. 

He therefore abandons further research on enemy marks in favor of a higher priority: doubling down on his research on the church. Secrets abound in Fódlan, and Claude isn't one to leave mysteries lying untouched. The longer he spends in Fódlan, the more he feels as though someone needs to look deeper, lest those secrets lead to yet another roadblock in his plans. 

It isn't only the monastery at large that experiences a shift; Claude is at the center of change himself. The relationship between himself and Dimitri has changed. Whereas before, Claude was the one typically seeking Dimitri out in an attempt to learn about him, Dimitri now consistently seeks out Claude — always polite, always from a respectful distance, but within a gravitational pull that simultaneously endears and unsettles Claude. 

Because he feels it too — the desire to look at Dimitri, to talk to Dimitri, to brush his lips against Dimitri. 

It is a weakness, born of having tasted what it could be like to feel cherished, valued, _kind_ in someone's eyes. He knows that if he entertains it, he'll only end up wanting more, entrenched in something that will pull wool over his eyes and keep him from seeing the threat that each affection offers. 

Dimitri holding his hand might as well be Dimitri grasping his throat. 

So Claude deflects. He hides. He pilfers books from the library and holes up in his room until he hears Dimitri slowly walk by his door, pause, and then continue on to his room. 

He does not meet Dimitri's eyes. He does not speak to Dimitri. He keeps his lips to himself. 

It lasts a week. 

Claude has strong resolve — he can hold out and deny himself small pleasures if it means achieving an overarching goal. 

And he knows that Dimitri is used to being spurned; he knows that Dimitri will accept his cold shoulder and move on. 

What he doesn't anticipate is the mission that Rhea hands the Golden Deer. 

It is supposed to be a simple case of routing bandits out of northern Fódlan, a task that they have performed several times already. In reality, they are pitted against splintered members of the Western Church — powerful mages who leave them injured and exhausted. Though the Golden Deer manage to defeat them, thereby completing more dirty work for Rhea, they have no choice but to make camp before heading back to the monastery. The healers need to rest before they can finish mending injuries and even those who are mostly unscathed are too tired to march. 

At Hanneman's instruction, Hilda and Claude take first watch, huddling near a fire and sharing one of the last vulneraries together. Claude's ribs are sore, maybe even cracked, and he has a nasty headache from an unfortunate impact with the ground. Hilda has a gash on forearm as well as a couple of magic burns across her torso. The versatile nature of the vulnerary means Hilda can apply a small amount on each injury to ease the worst of the pain and then hand it off to Claude for a swig. 

He doesn't notice that something is wrong until after he swallows. Then it hits him: an acrid aftertaste that lingers in his throat — one that is too startling familiar. 

He pours the rest of the vulnerary out on the ground. 

"Hey," Hilda whispers. "You better have a good reason for doing that." 

"It's poisoned," Claude says, turning away from her because he doesn't trust himself to appear anything but anxious as a result of this revelation. 

"What?" Hilda asks, immediately attempting to wipe the vulnerary off of her wounds. "How is that possible?" 

Claude doesn't answer. He forces himself to remain calm, to push all thoughts from his mind, to keep childhood memories from resurfacing. He heads to Hanneman's tent and calls for him. 

After being quickly briefed, Hanneman wonders the same thing as Hilda: "How is that possible? These came from the infirmary." He looks mildly skeptical as he retrieves the vial. "Who could have done this? Certainly not Manuela." 

_Dimitri_ , Claude's mind irrationally supplies. His true enemy. 

He pushes that thought from his mind as well. It doesn't make sense and entertaining illogical hypotheses is only going to waste his time. 

He considers the actual possibilities. The vulnerary could have been tainted at Garreg Mach, but that makes little sense; students getting poisoned while out on a march would achieve nothing toward an overall goal. Then it must have happened during this outing. He thinks about the possibility of it being a fellow student, but decides to abandon that thought also; his bonds with the Golden Deer have grown over the last few months and even Lorenz has learned to tolerate him. 

"We need an antidote," Hilda points out, interrupting Claude's train of thought. 

"Are you sure you feel ill?" Hanneman asks Claude. 

He doesn't. Not yet. But he doesn't have the luxury of time to explain how this particular poison works, so he simply nods. 

Hanneman goes back into his tent to look through his supplies. 

Hilda looks at Claude. She must see something in his face — something he wants to keep hidden, locked away, far from the surface — because she takes his hand. "Don't worry. My brother will kill Professor Hanneman if I die here today, and I do not want that on my conscience. We are not dying." 

She squeezes his hand. Claude tries to squeeze her hand back, but his grip is suddenly weak. 

He manages a smile — sloppy and probably ineffective. "I'd hate to see Holst tear apart Garreg Mach." 

"Exactly." 

It hits Claude first, a wave of sickness that drops him to his knees. When Hanneman approaches with a vial of antidote in hand, Hilda has gone from helping Claude to suffering herself, sweat breaking out along her brow and tremors taking hold of her body. Claude motions to Hanneman to give Hilda the antidote first, because he at least has experience with poisons — this is not the first time he's been driven to the brink of delirium due to a dangerous concoction. 

He hears Hilda protest, a drawn-out groan of pain that attempts to refuse the antidote for Claude's sake. 

Then everything goes dark. 

* * *

When Claude awakens, it's to a slow onset of realization: he is not in his bed, he is not in his room, and there is something uncomfortably metallic poking against his hand. His sluggish brain, slow to catch up with everything that happened prior to his unconsciousness, registers this as a threat: he doesn't know where he is or who he is with. 

He reacts before even fully aware, his body moving with little input from his mind. He jerks himself away from the metal hold on his hand and reaches into his clothing for one of his hidden daggers or a pin or _anything_ that could be used as a weapon. But he isn't wearing his uniform, nor is he wearing armor; he has been stripped down to his underclothes, empty of anything he can use for self-defense. 

"Claude," says a surprised, familiar voice. 

At the same time, someone places a hand on his shoulder and says, "Calm down, you're safe now." 

Claude's mind slows. He looks from Manuela, who gently squeezes his shoulder, to Dimitri, whose gauntlet is still outstretched in his direction. 

Dimitri had been holding his hand. 

Though his heart is hammering in his chest, Claude leans back against his pillows with a light laugh. "Sorry. It's not every day I wake up to company." As he settles down, he realizes he's incredibly lucky his underclothes are appropriate for the season; his long sleeves cover his mark. 

Dimitri frowns. 

Manuela clicks her tongue. "No more of that. You need to rest. You're lucky you're alive at all, considering how much of the poison you ingested. I'm honestly surprised your body processed it as well as it did." 

Dimitri's frown grows deeper, as though he understands the implication of that statement. And perhaps he does; Claude knows that being an heir to a throne means being a target. 

It means poison slipped into food or applied to weapons. It means fighting for survival when you're too young to quite understand what survival even means. 

"And Hilda?" Claude asks with dread knotted in his stomach. 

"Already released. She had less of the poison than you, so the antidote took effect quickly. You had too much. The antidote was only enough to get you here, and after that —" She sighs heavily. "Let's just say that I definitely earned my paycheck over the past couple of days. 

Claude relaxes marginally at hearing that Hilda pulled through. 

"We should have joined you," Dimitri says. "You have helped us so much, but we have yet to return the favor." 

"Nah," Claude replies. "It was supposed to be an easy mission. Nothing as crazy as killing family members or fighting large beasts." 

"I see no reason that the Golden Deer and Blue Lions should not work together from now on. Perhaps even Edelgard could assist, if she learns about what happened here." 

"Absolutely not," Manuela replies firmly. "The risk is far too great. Flayn's kidnapping proved that we need as many people here to help out at Garreg Mach as possible. And now that so many of the knights have been dispatched to Remire, we can't risk having all of you kids on missions at once." 

"Perhaps we should simply stick to routing bandits," Dimitri ventures. "At least until we figure out who's behind the poisoning." 

"Not that I disagree with you, but we have an answer for the poison," Manuela says. "Most of one." 

"Who did it?" Claude asks, with a resurfacing of his early dread. It occurs to him, now that his mind is free to think more clearly, that he could have been the sole target of an assassination plot — that someone could have learned his identity. 

"That vulnerary, and a few others that we had not yet handed out, came from Tomas' personal stash. We've had a shortage of supplies because of the situation in Remire, and since he was gone, we decided to take what he left behind, since we figured he'd understand the need." 

"Why would Tomas have poisoned vulneraries?" Dimitri asks, frowning once again. 

"Why indeed," Claude repeats, thinking it might be time for him to see what else Tomas is hiding — once he's fully recovered. 

"I am going to ask him that very question as soon as he's back. But for now, we dumped the rest of his supplies." Manuela begins walking to the door. "And because of that, we're short again, which means I'm due for a trip to town to see what I can scrounge up." She points to Claude. "You rest." She points to Dimitri. "You let him rest. I'll be back." 

As she leaves, Dimitri stands. "I will leave so you can get some sleep. If you would like, I can inform Hilda that you are doing well." 

Claude hums to cover the discomfort that comes with the idea of being alone this soon after being so close to death. As accustomed as he may be to attempts on his life, this one was too close, too unpredictable, and far too dangerous, as it almost claimed Hilda's life as well. He has an eerie feeling of the danger still lurking out there — with its eyes still on him. 

He may not have been the intended target, but it reminds Claude too much of all the times he was. 

He says, as lightly as possible, "You can gaze upon my sleeping face a while longer if you'd like. And if you do, you can scare away anyone who decides to interrupt my nap." 

"If you would like that," Dimitri replies. He takes a seat once again, then quietly says, "I thought you were angry with me." 

Claude yawns. "For what? Holding my hand?" 

He's exhausted and weak, and his eyes seem intent on closing regardless of what he wants, but he still manages to see Dimitri blush before he begins to drift. 

"It was nice," he manages to mumble, holding out long enough to feel the cool metal of Dimitri's gauntlet encircle his hand once again. 

* * *

Over the couple of days that Claude spends in the infirmary, he receives many visitors. All of the Golden Deer come by to wish him well. Hilda spends a lot of time at his bedside, proudly declaring, "I told you so," every time Claude brings up his miraculous survival against all odds. Even Sylvain and a reluctant Felix join him to chat about how worried Dimitri was, with Sylvain describing his concerns in an overdramatic fashion ("He nearly fainted when he heard you were so close to death") and Felix setting the record straight ("He did not. But he did snap his lance in two like the beast he is.") 

His most surprising visitor, however, ends up being Dedue, stiffly standing at his bedside and holding a vase filled with blue flowers. 

"I am glad to see that you are well." 

Claude smiles brightly. "It takes more than a little poison to bring me down." 

"His Highness said it was more than 'a little poison,'" Dedue replies evenly. 

Claude waves his hand dismissively. "A little, a lot. Doesn't matter. I made it through. I'm even looking at being released later tonight." 

"That is good." 

Claude eyes the flowers in his hands and asks, "Are those for me?" 

Dedue nods, then walks over to the small bedside table and sets them down. "These flowers are native to Faerghus and thrive in cooler temperatures than we have here in Garreg Mach, but I was able to grow them in a corner of the greenhouse, with Marianne's aid." 

"Marianne, huh?" Claude reaches to touch one of the delicate petals. 

"She has learned to harness her blizzard magic for the plants. It is very impressive." 

Claude smiles again, this time a rare genuine smile. "I'm glad you two are getting along." Dedue is gentle in demeanor, which is exactly what Marianne seems to need — someone she doesn't need to fear will judge her or treat her like a person cursed to bring about misfortune. 

Dedue hesitates for a moment, then says, "She does not mind that I am from Duscur." 

"I don't either," Claude offers. He relates to Dedue as a fellow outsider, even if he cannot make that clear. He adds, "Thank you for the flowers." 

"Of course." Dedue doesn't move to leave, so Claude waits for him to speak again. "There is one more matter I wish to discuss." 

"Sure," Claude replies. "Let me have it. 

"It is regarding His Highness. You two have grown close." 

"We have," Claude agrees. "But if this is a warning that I better treat Dimitri right, Felix already gave me that speech. I think." 

Dedue frowns at him. "I do not believe you would treat His Highness badly." 

Ah, another one with faith in him. Claude has to admit to himself that he'd almost rather Felix's ire to Dedue's kind compassion. 

"I merely wish to explain," Dedue continues. "Dimitri is a kind and honorable man, truly the best man I know." 

He pauses, so Claude says, "I have also found him to be kind and honorable." 

"Yes." Dedue looks at the flowers. He cups one of the buds gently. "Please take good care of these. Even thriving flowers can wilt if not given the care they need." 

Claude finds the metaphor endearing. Dimitri is a kind and honorable man, but so is Dedue — loyal, gentle, and strong-spirited in ways that Claude admires. 

It causes his words to stick in his throat, the lie of _I will_ lodging there, hindered by the knowledge of his enemy mark — by the distinct feeling of being the only rotten plant amidst a growing garden. 

He knows that his face does not betray his thoughts, but Dedue still reads something in his silence. He says, "I have spent much of this year thinking about my reputation as a man of Duscur and how befriending me might affect others. Yet I have still made friends. I think it is the same for you." 

Claude shakes his head. "You can't compare us. You've overcome so much adversity without sacrificing your good nature." Claude, meanwhile, has lied and concealed, schemed and wiggled his way toward minor successes. They are hardly comparable. 

"Have you not?" Dedue asks. 

The questions hangs between them. Claude shifts in his bed, masking his discomfort with a stretch and a yawn. 

"Get some rest," Dedue says before parting. 

Then he leaves Claude to think. 

* * *

Claude expects Hilda to meet him at the infirmary once he's officially released but is surprised to find Dimitri waiting for him in the hall instead. 

"Hilda said to tell you 'You owe her one,'" Dimitri explains. "Though she did not say for what." 

"Who knows," Claude replies, though he does know that Hilda, like her class leader, also happens to be good at scheming. 

"Can I walk you to your room?" 

"Absolutely," Claude replies. "I probably need a chaperone. Manuela said I absolutely cannot do anything risky for the next week, but do you know how long it's been since I've seen the library? If you don't keep tabs on me, I might take a detour _and_ carry a bunch of books back myself." 

Dimitri laughs. It's a nice sound, free of the tension that Claude sees in his shoulders — and the mounting anxiety that everyone seems to carry over the situation in Remire. 

Which brings Claude to an important question. "Do you know what your mission will be at the end of this month?" 

Dimitri leads him to the dormitory, carefully matching his pace whenever he catches himself moving too quickly. "Not yet." 

Claude hums. "Hopefully I'll be cleared to join you whenever the time comes." 

"Manuela said —" 

"The monastery can spare one student." 

"Claude." Dimitri stops walking and turns to him. 

Claude stops as well, standing perfectly still. "What?" 

Dimitri extends his hand, stopping it just before his gauntlet brushes Claude's cheek. He seems to think better of the motion, instead placing a careful grip upon Claude's shoulder. "You nearly died." 

Claude looks up at him; their eyes meet. His chest feels tight and his mark burns, as it usually does when Dimitri is this close. 

"But I didn't," Claude points out uselessly. 

"You did not," Dimitri agrees. 

Claude expects that to be the end of this strangely heavy conversation. He opens his mouth to make a quip about his near-death experience and the trials of the students at this Academy, but as soon as his lips part, Dimitri leans in and kisses him. 

The kiss starts with a hint of shyness. Dimitri's lips are hesitant despite the confidence shown in initiating, and Claude responds belatedly, caught off guard by this unanticipated gesture. But after the initial awkwardness fades and they allow themselves to kiss more freely, Dimitri begins to show a fervor that takes Claude aback. He kisses with more passion, his hand tangling in Claude's shirt and his tongue brushing against Claude's lips. 

Claude is surprised; Dimitri has never before demonstrated such forward behavior. But he's also charmed by this unexpected side to him. He feels heat rush through him as he tries to respond to the kiss in turn — allows his tongue to meet Dimitri's and rises to his passion. He falters a little, unaccustomed to so much touch, so much intimacy — and in the end he's the one who pulls back with a laugh meant to hide how unsure he feels in the face of Dimitri's non-verbal declaration. 

"Wow," he murmurs shakily, taking a step back and making a show of adjusting his clothes. "Consider my socks knocked off, your princeliness." 

Dimitri looks as shocked as Claude feels, as though his burst of confidence was as unexpected for him as it was for Claude. His cheeks redden. "I —" he begins. Then he tries again. "Please, allow me to explain." 

"What's there to explain?" Claude asks, trying not to seem so knocked off his axis. "It's just a kiss." 

That makes Dimitri frown so deeply, Claude feels bad for saying it. 

"No, Claude — that is what I wish to explain. It is more than a kiss. It is —" 

There is something before them, in this moment. Something dangerous — something that Claude absolutely should stop, before it grows and consumes them both. He prepares a protest — readies it on his tongue. He decides to shoot Dimitri down. 

But just as he begins to form the words, Dimitri takes off his gauntlet. Claude is silenced by the knowledge that this is the first time he is seeing Dimitri's bare hands — the first time that Dimitri is reaching for him without a gauntlet between them. 

Dimitri's fingers graze his cheek and Claude is rendered completely silent, the weight of the moment overpowering all of his superficial defenses. 

"The situation here and at Remire, and then nearly losing you, have all shown me how important it is to keep my friends close. Lately I have been feeling —" He stops, yet again changing his trajectory. "That is not important. What is important is that I tell you how much you have come to mean to me." 

"Dimitri," Claude whispers. "You don't need to do this." 

"I must. This is important." But even with his determination, Dimitri seems to hesitate. 

This isn't easy for him. 

It isn't easy for Claude, either, who feels such an intense mingling of dread and anticipation, he debates fleeing. 

"There is something that draws me to you. I have felt it for a long time, but it has grown stronger since —" 

"The Battle of the Eagle and Lion," Claude finishes for him, feeling breathless. 

Dimitri nods. He touches Claude's cheek again, a light brushing of his thumb. 

Claude feels it too, but he knows that the attraction between them — and all the conflicting emotions that come with it — are the result of their shared marks. It is not the allure of a potential partner that brings them together, but rather, the instinctive need to tear each other apart. 

And yet, he cannot say that — doesn't _want_ to say that. 

Because it is Dimitri who was at his bedside when Claude nearly died — and Dimitri who has continuously called him _good_ despite all Claude has already done, from temporarily stealing books from the library to using a dirty trick to win the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. 

Because Dimitri touches him like Claude is precious — worthy of care. 

And because Dimitri has just bared himself for Claude, in a way that Claude could never do for him. 

Claude digs inside himself to find words. All he can manage is a forced chuckle and a weak, "Are you asking to court me?" 

Dimitri looks surprised, as though he hadn't fully considered that as a possible conclusion. After a moment, he says, "Yes. I suppose I am." 

"It'll be a political disaster," Claude warns. "My grandfather won't have it." 

"Perhaps in time —" 

"Tell you what," Claude interrupts. "Let's just keep going as we are and see what happens. After we graduate and take on the responsibilities waiting for us, if you still want to court me, then I'll accept." 

Dimitri's voice is quiet when he speaks. "Do you doubt that my feelings are genuine?" 

Claude doesn't; Dimitri is earnest and kind. He would not make an offer like this unless he meant it. 

But he doesn't know Claude — has no idea of the secrets that Claude keeps, and doesn't know that unlike Dimitri, Claude has never been truly genuine. Even in this, he is scheming; for if Dimitri lingers at his side due to a far-off promise of courtship, then Claude will continue to learn about him and his weaknesses. 

"I believe this is what you want now," Claude replies, his own voice now hushed. "A lot will change after we leave here." 

Dimitri nods. "There are things that I must do. But I feel I would rather do them with you by my side." 

"And I'll be by your side," Claude promises. "Until you're sick of me." He grins. "You don't need to make it official for that." 

It's Claude's turn to touch Dimitri. He takes his bare hand in his own. 

"You can kiss me again if you want, though," Claude whispers. 

He tells himself it's to keep up the charade, to prove to Dimitri that he is invested, that his offer of courtship will remain on his mind. 

But when Dimitri's lips meet his once again, Claude isn't thinking about his scheme, nor is he thinking about his mark. He simply thinks, _Dimitri_ , and indulges in this still-new feeling of being treated tenderly — with care. 

* * *

The tricky part about intimacy, however fabricated it may be, is that it becomes a little addictive. After so long spent doubting hands extended in friendship, thanks to a lifetime of experiences of those very hands turning on him, Claude finds he has a particular taste for kind touch — and for kissing. 

He likes it. He wants it. 

And so he seeks it out. Under the cover of a cold night, he allows himself to be drawn to Dimitri's warmth. And Dimitri seeks it as well — as though he, too, has been starved for kindness. When Claude whispers his name, Dimitri unfurls — the tension in his shoulders eases away and he looks at Claude as though Claude personally hung each and every star in the sky. 

It's nice. It's good. 

Until Dimitri whispers his name and reminds him that it's all a lie — and that all of these feelings are short-lived, rooted in falsehood, and doomed to hurt them both in the end. 

But for now, Claude pretends. He fools himself into thinking that this is for his goals and not because of a deep-set yearning for acceptance. He makes himself believe that the only one being schemed is Dimitri. 

And it works — long enough for Claude to bring Dimitri and a couple of blankets to the Cathedral, where he lays them out so they can look at the stars. It's cold enough that Claude sees his breath with every exhalation, but they snuggle close enough that he barely feels chilled. 

"It is beautiful," Dimitri says of the sky. It's a clear night and the stars are shining brightly. "I have not looked at the stars in a very long time." 

"I look at them whenever I need to clear my head," Claude confesses. He braves the cold to lift his arm and outline a constellation — the great king of the sky, who rules with a scepter in hand, while a serpent constellation lies in wait behind him. 

"I will tell you my dream," Dimitri says. 

Claude drops his arm to drape it across Dimitri. "You don't have to." 

"I want to." Dimitri inhales slowly. Then he exhales equally as slowly. "I wish to help the less fortunate. To improve upon the situation in Faerghus, which has deteriorated under my uncle's regency. I feel it is my responsibility to help those in need, especially those who have suffered as a result of the political unrest caused by the Tragedy." 

"That is a very admirable goal." 

"I also wish to dispense justice upon those who are deserving." He speaks slowly, as though choosing his words carefully. 

Claude tilts his head to look at Dimitri. "That's part of a king's job." 

"I wonder," Dimitri replies, "how much of it is duty and how much of it is me." 

Dimitri is telling Claude something without fully saying it — revealing another piece of himself, but this time, in an enigmatic fashion. Claude thinks about what he knows of the Tragedy; he thinks about Felix and his rambles about a beast. He considers what Felix must have seen, and what Dimitri is offering to him now, perhaps expecting a similar reaction. 

"Justice," Claude ventures, "Or —" 

_Revenge._

He doesn't say it out loud. He files it away in his mind with everything else he knows about Dimitri. 

"Do you remember when you asked me about my mark?" Dimitri asks 

Claude nods. 

"That is part of my dream too." 

"Of course," Claude replies. "Whoever shares your mark is bound to get in the way of your plans." 

"Or they already have." 

"Or that." Claude had nothing to do with the Tragedy, but it makes sense that Dimitri would believe the person who shared his mark did. It cost him so much — it's natural to believe that his greatest enemy would have planned it to ruin his life. 

A moment of silence passes between them while they both mull over this confession. Then Claude asks, "Do you want to know my dream?" 

"Only if you wish to tell me," Dimitri replies, reminding Claude of why he is continuously endeared by him, despite their precarious situation. 

Claude explains his dream with as much care as Dimitri delivered his. He says, "I want to break down the walls that separate people and cultures. I want to bring people together so we can learn from each other and offer new perspectives." He avoids mention of Fódlan's throat and Almyra and instead ends with, "We have so much we can teach each other, but we get so caught up in our differences that we fight instead. I want to end that." 

Dimitri listens quietly, and remains quiet until Claude asks, "What do you think of that?" 

"I think it is amazing. Truly admirable, though I expected no less. I have seen firsthand how Dedue has been treated as a man from Duscur, and that has also factored into my plans for the future." 

"A goal as big as that...sacrifices must be made," Claude says, resting his head on Dimitri's, now looking out at the stonework instead of at Dimitri's expression. 

"I have learned that everything comes with a cost," Dimitri replies. 

"Exactly," Claude replies, thinking of everything he has had to do to survive up until now, every sacrifice he has made, and the sacrifices he will continue to make. He thinks of this right here: Dimitri putting his arm around him while Claude offers up a hint of a warning. "All dreams have a dark side and I'd bet that every important leader has had to embrace that dark side at times to achieve their goals." 

"Perhaps you are right," Dimitri replies quietly. 

"If our hands aren't dirty yet, they will be in time." Claude's are already stained, and there will be no washing them off. 

"But we will have each other," Dimitri tells him with the utmost conviction. "And I will hold your hand to keep you from digging too far in the dirt. I will keep you grounded." 

The statement is overly romantic, overly heartfelt, even a little cheesy, and yet Claude feels that now-familiar warmth inside his chest. His stomach flip-flops and he finds himself holding Dimitri a little tighter in response. 

"And I will hold yours," he whispers, a lie spoken too easily — as though it could be the truth, in another time, another place, another life entirely. 

* * *

A few days before the last weekend of the Red Wolf Moon, the Blue Lions are given their mission: they will head to Remire Village with Professor Manuela and help the villagers who are threatened by the strange calamity. Claude hears rumors of the mission before he meets with Dimitri — and when he goes to seek him out, Dimitri is nowhere to be found. 

"I want to come with you," Claude tells Manuela when he finds her in the Blue Lions classroom. His decision to try to participate in the mission is less about Dimitri and his class and more about his own curiosity about Remire — and about the other church mysteries. 

"Absolutely not," she replies. "The archbishop needs your class here. And you're barely fully recovered." 

"I'm back to full strength! You said so yourself." 

"I approved you to return to training, not to fight in the field." 

"Come on, Professor, you know I'll be an asset." 

"More like a pain in the asset," she replies dryly. "My answer is the same as the Archbishop's would be: no." 

So Claude ends up denied twice: he doesn't find Dimitri and he doesn't get permission to attend the mission. 

He goes through the rest of his day as usual, but Dimitri still does not show up — not even to dinner that evening. Growing concerned, Claude decides to seek out one of the other Blue Lions for information. 

He settles on asking Felix, as he is the easiest to locate, given that his schedule is so predictable. Claude finds him at the training grounds, swinging at a training dummy. 

"Hey Felix. Have you seen Dimitri?" 

"I warned you," Felix answers without even a glance at him. 

"Warned me about what?" Claude decides to step in front of Felix's training dummy so that he has no choice but to give him his attention. 

Felix is forced to stop mid-swing. He glares at Claude, his tone as angry as his body language. "You're supposed to be smart. 'Claude the schemer,' always one step ahead. But you're as blind as everyone else." 

"If you're trying to give me some eloquent speech about some beast, at least let me pull up a chair and get comfortable first." 

Felix sheaths his sword, then folds his arms. "You think you are completely in control of this situation, don't you?" 

"What situation is that?" Claude asks with a smile. 

"You won't be the one to cage the boar," Felix says. "It's too late for that now. There is only one thing on his mind, and it isn't you." 

Those words sting a little more than they should. Felix is more insightful than he seems, and there's a small, distant part of Claude that feels vaguely threatened. 

"These metaphors are a little above me," Claude fibs. "Maybe you could dumb them down a bit? Unless you're going for innuendo, then you might want to take some lessons from Sylvain." 

Felix's disgust is palpable. "Only a fool would let his guard down around him. You, Claude von Riegan, are the biggest fool of all." 

Felix turns on his heel and walks away, leaving Claude alone. 

As he considers that Felix might be right after all, his mark burns in confirmation. 

* * *

Dimitri doesn't join him in the library that night. Claude waits so long, he ends up falling asleep at one of the tables, only to be woken by Marianne bright and early the next morning. 

"Oh, I'm sorry I woke you." 

"It's fine," Claude replies with a yawn, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing here so early? Today's our free day." 

She looks down at the floor rather than meeting Claude's eyes. 

"Um...I was looking for a book. On — on enemy marks. Linhardt told me he's researching them and, well, I was curious..." 

Claude feels much more awake upon hearing that. "Do you have a mark?" 

Marianne grows tense and uncomfortable. She doesn't answer. 

Claude gathers the books he has strewn about the table, tucking them into his arms and then walking to the shelves to put them away. "You don't have to tell me, but it would be good for me to know as your class leader, just in case anyone comes looking for you. People will go to great lengths to find out who shares their marks." 

"I have two..." Marianne confesses quietly. Then, with more energy, she says, "But please don't tell anyone! It's a secret, Linhardt is the only other person who knows. Other than my adoptive father..." 

Claude turns to her. "Two? How is that possible?" In all his research, Claude has never come across anything indicating a person could have two marks. 

"I'm — I'm not sure." 

"Do you know who shares your mark?" 

Marianne fiddles with her sleeve. "Me." 

She doesn't need to explain further; Claude understands. Marianne has the same mark twice on her body, in symmetrical locations. 

Marianne is her own worst enemy. 

No wonder she spends so much time thinking she's cursed; between a crest that she tries to keep secret and this, Marianne must feel terribly unlucky. 

Claude puts the last books away, then walks over to Marianne, giving her a smile. He would pat her on the shoulder to comfort her, but he has a feeling that physical touch will only spook her. Instead, he says, "Where I come from, having a mark is seen as a kind of blessing. It means a great challenge awaits you in the future. I know many people who would be jealous of your unique marks." 

Marianne finally meets his eyes, looking at him with surprise. "Really?" 

He nods. "You're twice blessed." 

"I don't know about that." She drops her stare again. 

"Well I do. Great things await you in the future. You'll see." 

Marianne doesn't look like she believes him. She doesn't smile. But she nods, slowly, as though accepting it as a possibility, however unlikely. 

* * *

Later that morning, Claude finds Linhardt at the fishing pond, lazily catching some fish. He's sitting on the dock, looking like he's drifting off toward a nap, his head bobbing and the fishing pole held loosely in his hands. 

Claude approaches him, stopping when he's standing beside him. "Any luck?" 

Linhardt blinks up at him. "The fish aren't biting, if that's what you mean. It may be too early." 

"I don't think fish keep to a strict schedule." 

"Too early for _me_." Linhardt yawns. "Do you need something?" 

Claude takes a seat beside him, dangling his feet off of the dock. "I heard you're researching crests." 

"I am." 

"Find anything interesting?" Claude asks. 

"That depends on what you find interesting." 

"All of it!" Claude tells him enthusiastically. "You know, I've always wanted to get to the bottom of the mysteries of my crest. Maybe I should give you a sample of my blood, see what you can find out." 

Linhardt gives him a disinterested look. "I don't need a minor Crest of Riegan for my research. Besides, I thought you didn't want anyone to know you're Almyran. It isn't wise to offer up your blood." 

Claude's stomach drops. Not only had he not expected that Linhardt would know his background, considering that no one else at the Academy has put the hints together, but he also wouldn't have anticipated Linhardt calling him out as Almyran so bluntly. Linhardt is smarter than he seems; Claude immediately regrets not getting to know him earlier in the year. 

  
Art by [mezzo](https://twitter.com/OnionPax)

He attempts to school his instinctual fear, covering his shock with a laugh. "What gave you that impression?" 

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," Linhardt replies, looking back at the water. "Though I don't know how no one else has figured it out yet." 

With this out between them, Claude decides to drop any pretense about crest research. He grows serious, sitting up straighter and regarding Linhardt without his usual false smile. Linhardt has already seen through him to some degree; there is no need to keep up the facade. 

"Forget the crests. I want to know about your research on enemy marks." 

"Ah," Linhardt replies. He also sits up straighter, looking more alert and interested in the conversation now. "You must have one." 

"Maybe," Claude says. "Or maybe I care about someone who does." 

"That changes things. I'd like to study you after all, if you tell me who shares your mark." 

Claude shakes his head. "Sorry, I don't believe in giving that kind of information freely. But if you tell me about your research, I might be willing to reconsider." Claude's real goal in having this conversation is to see what his own personal research may have missed; after all, his time has not been dedicated entirely to marks. Linhardt's research may have advanced beyond his. 

"Fine, fine." Linhardt's eyes are sharp, watching Claude for any tells. "I don't like all this senseless killing over marks. My goal is to solve the mystery behind them — maybe even do away with them somehow — so people have one less reason to go to battle and die." 

"And how's that going?" 

"Not well." Linhardt shrugs. "Crests are one thing, but fighting against fate is a little more difficult. Not that I intend to allow it to get in the way of my work." 

"You haven't found anything about two mark bearers deciding not to kill each other, have you?" 

"I have not, unfortunately. Per historical record, the death of one mark bearer is always caused by the other. There are cases where the cause of death is less certain, but history has shown that such deaths are usually the result of one enemy using clandestine means to kill another, such as with poison. To my knowledge, there has been no exception, and I have researched exhaustedly, all the way back to the first recorded mark bearers in Fódlan's history." 

"Nemesis and Seiros." 

"Yes." Linhardt begins to look bored again, topping off the word with another yawn. "Of course, my research would be more complete if I could have access to documentation from surrounding countries." 

"I'm willing to help with that," Claude says, in part because Linhardt has been so forthcoming, but also because his research will benefit Claude as well. "How about I gather a few books for you?" 

"That would be nice." 

Claude nods, looking down at his hands — the very hands that should, at some point in the future, attempt to end Dimitri. "But you'll find it's the same. There's no record of two mark bearers surviving together." 

There's little hope of turning the tides of fate. Claude wants to believe he could, if he tried — but the risk is not worth endangering his future and his dreams. 

"I'll see what I can get for you," Claude says as he stands, feeling grim about what lies in his path. He doesn't bother hiding his dour mood. "Thanks for the talk." 

As he begins walking away, Linhardt calls out to him. "There's still a lot of research to be done. Historical records tell a biased story." 

Claude is aware of that, but such fragile hope is not enough to stake his future on. 

When he leaves, it is with new resolve. 

* * *

Later that evening, dressed in his nightclothes and nearly ready for a night of reading in bed, Claude knocks on Dimitri's door. 

Dimitri looks exhausted as he steps aside to allow Claude entry. He's still in his academy uniform, though he has removed his gauntlets. His room is lit by only a single candle. 

"Are you alright?" Claude asks quietly as Dimitri gestures for him to sit on the bed. 

Dimitri sits beside him. "A headache. I get them sometimes." 

"Me too." Claude studies Dimitri's face as best he can in the dark; he comes to the conclusion that his headache isn't simply the result of a lack of decent sleep. "Did something happen?" 

"My uncle is here. It is...politically complicated." 

Claude exhales a humorless laugh. "When is it not?" But that comment alone already edges too close to revealing too much about his own feelings — regarding Remire, Rhea's missions, and his own precarious position amidst it all, so instead he moves to stand. "We can talk about this later." 

Dimitri catches his wrist. His grip feels strong — not as restrained as usual. 

"All that matters is saving the village." 

Claude pauses. "Of course." He settles back down and, with his arm still in Dimitri's grip, places his hand on Dimitri's leg. 

"And you." Dimitri releases him. 

Claude internally falters. "Dimitri..." 

"Professor Manuela told me she denied your request to come. I am glad. I do not want you to see that." 

"I want to come. All this class separation isn't good for anyone. I keep thinking —" 

Dimitri cuts him off with a sudden, unexpected kiss that is as rough as his grip — he closes the gap so quickly that Claude nearly bites his lip, as he's still in mid-sentence. But he recovers smoothly — returns the kiss with a matched passion, because despite this conversation and everything that lies before them, he has missed Dimitri these past few days. 

Because he likes this far too much. 

Dimitri deepens the kiss, urging Claude's lips to part so he can find his tongue with his own and entangling his hand in Claude's shirt. Claude moves more hesitantly, unaccustomed to this fervor, settling for touching Dimitri's cheek with his fingertips. 

Dimitri's hand roams downward, dipping under the hem of Claude's nightshirt and settling along his abdomen. Claude shivers at the contact and momentarily breaks the kiss to look into Dimitri's eyes. 

They look a little wild, but they soften as they stare back at Claude. 

"Do you wish me to stop?" Dimitri whispers. 

Felix was right, Claude reflects. He is a fool. 

Because this time, he's the one who closes the gap between them — who rushes into a kiss to say, _No, don't stop_. 

Because he wants to enjoy this a little longer. 

Dimitri pulls him close, and Claude ends up straddling his lap. Dimitri's hand roams further up his shirt, along his ribs, fingernails glancing across his nipple. Claude grips Dimitri's hair and Dimitri makes a low noise in the back of his throat in response. 

"Claude," Dimitri murmurs when he moves from kissing Claude's lips to kissing his neck. His breath is warm against his skin. 

"Dimitri," Claude answers, deftly unclasping his cape and allowing it to fall to the bed. 

Dimitri attempts to pull up his shirt. He raises it to Claude's chest, but Claude quickly grabs his hands. 

"Ah, I'm too shy." 

Dimitri immediately pulls back his hands. "I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I — I care for you deeply." 

The want that Claude feels — the desire for this touch, those words, the way that Dimitri carefully reaches to adjust his shirt so that it's back to covering him once more — immediately wilts upons hearing those words. 

Claude cares for him as well — much more than he should. And he has only himself to blame for what he must do next to finally put an end to those feelings. 

He spent these brief months learning everything he could about Dimitri — the way he fights, the way he loves, and the ways in which he can be damaged — and yet his only real conclusion in this grand scheme of his is that the one true vulnerability exists within his own heart. 

He must deny himself, before this goes any further. He needs to refocus on his goals. And what better time to end something so dangerous when his greatest enemy and almost-lover is emotionally fragile, easily broken, and about to leave on an important mission? 

He slowly extracts himself from Dimitri. He removes all affection from his expression. He stands and takes a step to the side, so that the candlelight illuminates his body. Then he begins pulling up his shirt. 

"Claude — you do not need to do this." 

"That's what I tried to tell myself," Claude answers, injecting false cheer into his tone. "I thought, if anyone could tempt fate, it's me — I've done it before." How many times had he been so close to death, only to survive yet another attempt on his life? And yet, in this, he has lost — for unless he makes this move now, Dimitri will always have the advantage over him and his heart. 

He pulls his shirt over his head. Then he holds out his arm. 

For once, his mark doesn't burn. 

Dimitri stares at his face. He must see the mark in the periphery of his vision, but he denies himself a look — as though by holding out, he can pretend this never happened. 

"See, your Princeliness? I'm always up to no good." He gives his arm a shake. 

Dimitri has no choice but to look. His eyes slide down to Claude's neck, then down to his arm. They settle on the mark. 

"Impossible." Dimitri's voice grows low, dark — dangerous. "You knew." 

"The whole time," Claude replies easily, with a shrug. "You know what they say about keeping your enemies close." 

Dimitri stands. Claude pulls his shirt back over his head. 

"Don't worry," Claude says as Dimitri takes a step forward. "I'll let myself out." 

Then Dimitri is on him — shoving him back to the window. Claude trips over the seat and ends up half-slumped over it. Dimitri raises his fist. Claude forces himself to appear outwardly calm. 

When Dimitri drives his fist forward, Claude flinches, though he does his best to resist the impulse. But the impact isn't with his face; it's with the window, which shatters into pieces. The air quickly grows cold. 

Dimitri raises his hand again. His knuckles are bloody. 

"Your hand," Claude says impulsively, out of shock, or perhaps out of some still-present care for Dimitri, the man who is to be either his greatest triumph or his complete undoing. 

"Get out!" Dimitri yells. 

Claude doesn't need to be told twice. His desire for self-preservation kicks in. He says nothing — merely dips beneath Dimitri's outstretched arm and hurries out the door. 

He shuts it behind him quickly. 

Felix stands outside his own room. Claude expects to see a glare or to receive a speech about how he's definitely an idiot — both of which he would deserve — but Felix asks instead, "Are you alright?" 

"Just fine," Claude replies as calmly as possible. 

"Is he?" 

"I don't think so," Claude replies, feeling too unnerved to say it casually. "But you probably shouldn't go in there." 

From within Dimitri's room comes the sound of another window shattering. 

Felix does not take Claude's advice. He shoves past him, into the room, and slams the door. 

Felix is a better person than Claude, who strategically retreats upon unsteady legs and shuts himself inside his room, reminding himself over and over that this is necessary. 

It was the right choice, despite the guilt he feels — despite the pain that he caused Dimitri. 

It needs to be the right choice. 

* * *

The Blue Lions depart for Remire and Garreg Mach grows sullen in their absence. Though his enemy mark remains a burden on his mind and conscience both, Claude throws himself back into his research on the church. He finds a picture of a dragon called The Immaculate One, which is promptly confiscated, but he is quick to seek out Ignatz and describe the picture in enough detail that Ignatz manages to produce a likeness of it. Claude hides it in his room along with his many other notes on his findings. 

"What happened to you?" Hilda asks when she visits him on the afternoon that the Blue Lions are due back from their mission. Claude stands in the doorway, blocking the majority of his mess from view, but he can't hide the fact that he just spent a few hours passed out on a pile of books. His clothes are rumpled, his hair is a mess, and the first thing out of his mouth is a yawn. 

"Rough night," he explains vaguely. 

"You do know it's past noon, right?" Hilda asks with the disapproval of someone who absolutely should not be passing judgement. 

"You're the one who's always talking about the importance of beauty rest." 

"Right," Hilda agrees. "Beauty rest. Not...whatever this is." 

Claude yawns again and Hilda sighs. 

"I'd ask you what has you all thrown off but then you'd probably talk in circles while admitting nothing, so let's skip that." Despite her impatient words, she looks a little concerned. 

"Fair enough. What do you have for me?" 

"The Blue Lions are back." Hilda's eyes are sharp, watching for Claude's reaction. 

"Is someone hurt?" 

"No." She pauses. "Not exactly." 

Claude straightens, feeling more awake. "What is it?" 

"I saw Dimitri before he left and I knew something happened between you two, but now —" She cuts herself off. 

"Now?" Claude prompts, feeling dread pool in his stomach. Absently, for the first time in another's presence, Claude rubs his mark through his sleeve. 

"I think I see why you did whatever you did." 

"And here I thought you were going to scold me for not listening to your warning a few months back." 

_Collateral damage,_ Hilda had said back then. 

She had been correct. 

That lightens the heavy moment. "Please, I already know you're going to go forward with your schemes whether I get on your case or not. And they _are_ fun, sometimes." 

For a moment, they say nothing. 

Then Claude asks, "It's bad, huh?" 

"Yeah," Hilda replies. "It's bad." 

* * *

They survey the damage together: the Blue Lions solemnly eating a late lunch together without saying a word, distanced despite huddling together. 

On his own, at the far end of the table, sits an exhausted Dimitri, who is clearly coming apart at the seams. He stabs at his food with a fork and it bends until it is unrecognizable — a useless twist of metal in his hand. 

"They found Tomas," Hilda whispers as they watch. "Poisoned vulneraries were only the beginning." 

* * *

Claude has a strong sense of self-preservation. When in danger, if the odds are stacked against him, he will retreat. When pressed into a corner, he will find a way out, whether by scheming, tricking, or even downright lying. Claude wants to survive — for the future, for his dreams, and for a world where understanding comes before hate — and he will use every skillset he has to make sure he does. 

The strategic reveal of his mark means two things: One, there is no longer any reason for him to spend time with Dimitri, thereby freeing him to close his heart. And two, he now needs to actively protect himself against Dimitri at all costs. 

This means that Claude must simultaneously keep his distance and watch Dimitri very closely. 

His choice to reveal the mark had been strategic in nature. Perhaps it may have been possible for Dimitri to never learn of his mark, but the accidental reveal of Dimitri's mark amidst a dangerous battle had proven how risky such a hope could be. Claude himself has been close to being exposed to others several times, thanks to mishaps around the Academy and his time spent unconscious in the infirmary. It had been better to take the matter into his own hands and use what could be construed as a weakness as a tool instead. 

With Dimitri so close to unraveling, he knew that a broken heart, coupled with a taste of betrayal, would affect him deeply and build upon his struggles. It was better to show the mark before Dimitri grew into being a threat — because now he is fracturing further, it is easy to see that Dimitri has no mind for schemes of his own. Everything he feels — the anger, the bloodlust, the pain — is displayed clearly in his face and tone. Without anything hidden beneath the surface, Claude is able to read plainly his motives. 

He's able to assess his safety. 

Claude goes about his daily routine as usual, only this time, he skips his late-night meetings with Dimitri and forgoes spending time with the Blue Lions as a whole. It doesn't stop him from watching, from the periphery, as former childhood friends discuss what to do about Dimitri — and as Dimitri, in turn, places more distance between himself and everyone around him, including Dedue. 

Hilda's assessment of Dimitri — that ominous _it's bad_ spoken outside of his room — ends up setting the course for the future. It is bad indeed, and it will only get worse. 

But for now, everything settles into a new normal. Claude researches and schemes, the Golden Deer prepare for the White Heron Cup, and Dimitri remains an island untouched by his peers — sleepless, immovable, and alone. 

(And Claude, an island of his own, somewhere far away, tries not to think about how they once touched; how once, if only for a moment, they could have been united. 

How he is the one who severed them and sent Dimitri adrift — so he could remain afloat.) 

* * *

The ball itself begins in an anticlimactic fashion. Some students dance, but the majority of them linger along the sidelines, tired from their missions and finding it difficult to maintain a level of cheer. Even the Golden Deer are exhausted, having just fended off a herd of demonic beasts from attacking Garreg Mach a couple of days prior. 

During a particularly downtrodden lull in music and activity, Sylvain winds his way through the ballroom to find Claude. He gives him a smile that's as practiced as one of Claude's — and flirtatious beyond necessity. 

"Hey," he greets. "You look like you're in need of a little fun tonight." 

Claude matches his smile. "How could I be in need of fun, when it's standing right in front of me?" 

"You flatter me," Sylvain replies, grinning. "But I am spoken for this evening, as you can see." He gestures over to where Felix is standing and watching them, arms folded, appearing very displeased. "But I do know a certain wallflower who might be in need of a kind word or two." Sylvain gestures again, this time indicating a corner of the room, where Dimitri seems to be brushing off Dedue's attempts to talk to him. "A little birdie told me things went a little south between you two before Remire. What better time to repair a broken friendship than a magical night of dancing?" 

Claude hums. "So what are you getting out of this?" 

Sylvain shrugs. "Honestly, I just want a break. Things are so tense right now, I'd think about switching classes if it weren't for..." He waves his hand vaguely. "You know." 

Faerghan loyalty, for better or for worse, seems to drag all the Blue Lions down in the end. 

Claude is exempt from that loyalty. He has never experienced such deep friendship, and he has no reason to exhibit it on his own. For a moment, he thinks about pulling a page out of Hilda's book and asking, _What's in it for me then?_

He hesitates, though — albeit only for a fraction of a second. Because as he looks at Dimitri, he feels the burden of fault — the pang of regret. Wounds of his own creation sting more than they should. 

"I would," he settles on saying, "but I actually have a date tonight, and unlike yours, my date can be very unforgiving of me flirting with others." He points to Hilda, who just so happens to be glaring at him at the moment — though that's likely because Claude snagged her drink out from under her while she was busy talking to Marianne. 

"She does look angry," Sylvain agrees, and briefly Claude thinks that might be the end of it. Sylvain moves as though he plans on returning to Felix, but then, without turning around, he says, "By the way, Dimitri has been asking some weird questions lately. About enemy marks." 

Claude feels his smile tighten. Though Sylvain isn't looking at him, he's careful not to let it fall. "Oh? Does that mean he has one?" 

Sylvain laughs. "Who knows? I'm just sharing some gossip." 

"That's funny," Claude replies evenly. He's always been aware that Sylvain is sharper than he lets on, but now he feels that Sylvain should be watched more closely. "It seems a little dangerous for you to gossip about your future king with the future leader of the Alliance like that." 

"And here I thought all that mission assistance made us friends." Sylvain turns back around to flash Claude another smile. "Silly me." 

"You're both silly," Hilda supplies, having made her way to them. She puts a hand on her hip and levels Sylvain with a stern look. "Since you seem to be bored this evening, why don't you go grab me a drink?" 

"Actually —" Sylvain begins. 

Claude interrupts. "He was just telling me how lonely he feels tonight. Why don't you keep him company while I go get the drinks?" 

"It would be my pleasure," Hilda says, taking Sylvain's arm and dragging him toward the dance floor. 

This is why Claude enjoys Hilda so much — she's truly skilled in picking up exactly what she needs to do for whatever nonsense Claude has in mind. 

"Great! I'll be right behind you two." Claude waves them off to the sound of Sylvain attempting to protest again. Then he turns to where Felix is glaring, looking even more annoyed than earlier, and gives him a wink. 

Claude does not retrieve any drinks. 

But he does end up making his way to Dimitri after all, Sylvain's words having regrettably made an impression on him, despite Claude's firm attempts to avoid indulging in Dimitri's company any longer. 

He tells himself it's out of concern for the questions Dimitri has been asking regarding enemy marks; he decides that he will simply warn him against making himself so obvious, therefore tipping off Claude's situation, and then continue with the rest of his evening. 

But when he sees Dimitri — gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes, murmuring to himself — he has no choice but to acknowledge his feelings of guilt. 

Dimitri watches his arrival tensely. 

He did this — pushed kind and earnest Dimitri too far, when the rest of the world was already doing that job for him. Claude is struck by the irrational desire to cup his cheek, to look into his eyes, to say, _I'm sorry. This isn't what I wanted. I still —_

There was a time, when he was young, when Claude's father called him soft-hearted, and said he'd never make it to the throne unless he learned to harden himself to pain and disappointment — unless left on his own to realize the harsh realities of the life he was born into, and the person he would have to become in order to succeed. 

Claude does not apologize, despite the ache in his heart. He numbs himself to the feeling that stubbornly remains, even knowing all he does about Dimitri and his mark — even knowing that the hands that touched him in kindness will one day attempt to rip out his throat. 

He reminds himself that today could be that day. 

"Dance with me," is what he settles on saying, seeking to keep Dimitri in the eyes of all who are in attendance. Being the center of attention is far safer than speaking huddled in the shadows, where Dimitri could act relatively unseen, if he wanted. 

"I am in no mood to dance," Dimitri replies. 

Claude attempts to read his expression but all he sees is that same frenzied look, consuming everything else. 

"At all? Or just with me?" Claude ventures, tone playful despite the tension between them. "Because if I'm the problem, you know what they say about keeping your enemies close..." 

Dimitri curls his hands at the word _enemy_ , glancing out at the room, then turning his attention back to Claude. "If you insist." 

"I do," Claude replies, taking Dimitri's arm and leading him to the center of the room. 

The music is slow, and by the looks of the few students that are currently dancing, it calls for a particularly formal set of steps and dips that are foreign to Claude. He brushed up on noble etiquette before coming to the Academy but skimped on his dance lessons, thinking there were better uses of his time. He therefore gives Dimitri the lead, allowing him to guide him to the dance floor. 

Dimitri pulls him close in one abrupt motion, the strength in his arms feeling like a threat. He takes Claude's hand in his own, and sets his other hand along his back. Dimitri then pulls him along in a series of rote steps, no spirit in his movement. Claude follows. 

"Have you been sleeping?" Claude whispers. 

The hand on his back tightens, curling into his uniform. 

"That is not your concern." 

"Maybe not," Claude agrees, "but you know what is my business..." 

Dimitri looks off to the side, rather than at Claude. His hand tightens around Claude's; his fingers dig into Claude's back. 

Claude continues. "All these new rumors I've been hearing about your enemy mark. Seems a little risky, don't you think? Allowing everyone to guess at who shares yours..." 

"I have told no one," Dimitri replies. 

Claude believes him. Regardless of his current state, Dimitri has always been earnest; and even now, faced with his true enemy, he has no reason to lay bare this horrible connection between them. 

"Though I do not see how it would matter if I did," Dimitri adds. 

"We have enough to deal without adding political complications into the mix, don't you think?" Claude asks, keeping his tone light despite Dimitri's iron-grip on his body. "Unless you're looking to start a war..." 

The music builds. Dimitri dips Claude, the motion far too quick, too violent. Claude nearly loses footing, but then Dimitri whips him back up into dancing again. 

"Do not lie to me, Claude. You are not worried about war. You have never acted in anything other than self-interest." 

Those words hurt more than they should — enough that Claude loses both his smile and his jovial tone. They hurt because while rooted in truth, they aren't the whole story. 

Yes, Claude has acted in his own self-interest, but only because he must stay alive to achieve a greater purpose; without him on the throne in Almyra, the friction between his two countries will remain for years to come. 

And yet — it isn't entirely false. 

  
Art by [mezzo](https://twitter.com/OnionPax)

"I tried to tell you that in the beginning," Claude replies, his tone now flat. "You didn't listen." 

"I was a fool." Dimitri whips him around in a tight, abrupt spin, then grabs him once again. This time, Claude flinches. 

"As was I," Claude replies, yanking himself from Dimitri's grasp, though the song has not yet ended. "For thinking you could dance." 

Dimitri turns his full attention on Claude, and seeing that, coupled with the ache present in his back and hand as a result of Dimitri's strength, Claude feels his heart begin to beat quickly, registering a threat. 

"Leave," Dimitri tells him. "Before I do something I regret." 

But for a moment, there's a slight easing of Dimitri's expression, a hint of the sadness that exists beneath the budding madness — a glimpse of the Dimitri for whom Claude had come to care. 

For whom Claude still cares. 

His mark burns with sudden, ferocious warning. But still, Claude allows his voice to soften, to dip lower, to say, "Please, just get some sleep." 

He leaves before he gives voice to any further thought — before he sees any more of Dimitri struggling to remain himself. 

He finds Hilda. 

"I made a mistake," he explains, rubbing at the mark through his clothes. 

He's made many. 

But he can't decide which mistake is worse: falling for his enemy or destroying what fragile hope they created together in the name of something more. 

* * *

Claude doesn't fix his mistakes. He doesn't stop feeling the ever-present ache in his heart every time he looks upon Dimitri, nor does he attempt to repair the damage. Dimitri continues to decline and the Blue Lions continue to fracture. The church sends each class on increasingly dangerous missions and all attempts at providing mission assistance across classes are entirely forgone. 

By the time war breaks out, there is no hope for unity. 

Claude blames himself, in large part, for missing the signs. Had he not been so focused on Dimitri, perhaps he would have seen what Edelgard had up her sleeve. Had he not been so tied up in his enemy mark, perhaps he would have uncovered more of the church's secrets. 

If he had been a little more approachable — a little easier to trust — perhaps the Golden Deer would march beside him on his way back to the Alliance. 

As it stands, it is only Hilda who travels with him, and only for a brief time; whereas Claude has an Alliance to one day lead, Hilda has a brother awaiting her return. 

On the horizon, the battered Blue Lions begin the trek back to Faerghus. Dimitri is already long gone — separate from them once again. 

"This doesn't end here," Hilda says. Claude understands the words are meant to be a comfort — they are meant to give him hope, that maybe, at some point in the future, the Golden Deer will stand behind him once again. They are meant to say, _I will join you again._

But right now, with the destruction and war around them, and Claude's enemy free to return for him one day, they only sound ominous. 

"It could have," Claude replies. 

For a brief but promising period of time, it had seemed like all the students could have banded together. Instead of worrying about understanding in the future, Claude should have been worrying about understanding in the present. 

But there's little he can do about that right now, in this moment, with students spreading across Fódlan to fight for their families and homes. 

He can only gather his gear and mount his wyvern to face the future before him, no matter how out of reach his goals now seem, no matter how difficult it is to imagine the dawn of a new day arising over the sky.


	2. Post-Timeskip

They say Dimitri is dead. 

It has been five years since Claude saw him last — five years since students fled the wreckage of Garreg Mach, leaving behind graduation and any hope for a peaceful future. For five years, Claude has worked as the leader of the Alliance — at first, simply behind the scenes while his grandfather's health declined, and then officially, as the only remaining heir, a last choice but a choice nonetheless. For five years, he has schemed territories into bickering with each other to avoid being pulled into real battles — to avoid senseless death while Edelgard tore her way into Kingdom territory. 

And for five years, Claude has greeted every morning by looking down at his enemy mark and wondering if that was the day he'd meet Dimitri once again. 

Claude knows Dimitri is not dead. 

Enemy marks stain their bearers for life; whether or not Dimitri lives, Claude's mark would remain, unfaded, until his own death. The mark tells him nothing. 

Claude knows Dimitri isn't dead because he has not killed him himself. 

Amidst plotting to stay out of the war and leading the Alliance, he therefore sends scouts out to search for Dimitri, to find him before Dimitri somehow ends up on his doorstep on his own terms. He doesn't tell his scouts to look for Dimitri specifically, but rather, "those who could pass for the usurped prince," hinting that he might have a plan for a lookalike. He instructs them to search every dark corner of Faerghus, every alleyway and every slum. 

Eventually, someone will find where Dimitri is hiding — and Claude wants it to be him. 

Because no matter how much of a guise of relative neutrality he poses to the rest of Fódlan, the war will soon show up on his doorstep. And somehow, some way, he will end up facing Dimitri not as a friend or former near-lover, but as a true enemy, in a fight to the death. 

A small part of Claude — the beaten down and barely present piece of his heart, not yet fully hardened against the stresses of leadership, the impact of the war, and the ever-receding dream of peace — still wishes for another option. He believes that if he were able to dedicate time and resources to searching, he may have found one — a way to break the connection that two mark-bearers share, or perhaps, a way of inducing a temporary form of death without truly harming a person, in hopes that would fulfill their destinies. Had he and Linhardt been on the same side of this war, perhaps the two of them could have put their minds together to discover a cure. 

But being a Duke and staving off a war is time consuming and exhausting. Claude goes to bed at night with a book in hand and wakes up with it on his chest, contents entirely forgotten. 

Grimly, he resigns himself to the only path that has ever truly been offered to him: that of survival by all means necessary. 

* * *

Five years after the fall of Garreg Mach, the war does show up on Claude's doorstep, but not in the way he expected. 

Instead of Edelgard forcing him out of neutrality or Dimitri finally attempting to make good on their bond as enemies, it's Hilda who finds him after a long round table meeting, walking into the room as soon as everyone leaves. 

"You're a busy man," she says by way of greeting. 

"A lot of people need me these days," Claude replies. "I'm pretty important around here." 

"So I've heard." Hilda grins as she takes a seat at the table. 

They chat for a bit about the state of the Alliance and what has transpired across five years, then Hilda broaches the topic that brought her there in the first place: "I heard you're looking for a Dimitri lookalike." 

"Oh?" Claude keeps his tone innocent. "Sounds like an unsubstantiated rumor." 

Hilda rolls her eyes. "It's been a while since I last helped you with one of your schemes, but I know you haven't changed _that_ much." 

"Then you know that I have my reasons." 

"What I know," Hilda says, leaning over the table and lowering her voice, "is you're looking for Dimitri. As in, the real deal Dimitri." 

Claude doesn't react to this information beyond a mere raising of his eyebrows. "That's an interesting conclusion." 

"It's the right conclusion. I mean, most people believe he wasn't actually executed, and a lookalike would only get you so far in whatever plan you're pretending to cook up. Plus, for you to put resources toward finding him when our resources are already so limited because of the war — you have to be looking for the real prince." 

"I sent Riegan men with Riegan money. The Alliance's coffers are untouched." 

Hilda ignores this argument. "So I got to wondering, how is it that you're so sure Dimitri is alive? Sure enough to send people after him in the middle of a war." 

Claude remains silent, allowing only a small, mildly interested smile. 

"I remembered all that stuff you used to do when we were at the Academy, and I realized." Hilda lowers her voice again. It's barely a whisper now. "You, Claude von Riegan, have a mark." 

On cue, Claude chuckles. "And you, Hilda Valentine Goneril, must have had a boring five years, if this is what you've been mulling over all this time." 

"Actually, it's been far from boring. War is awful, even when you're trying to stay out of it. But we'll get to that in a second." She sits back, giving Claude a serious, assessing look. "I won't tell anyone. You should know that by now. I never said a word about any of your schemes in the past." 

It's true that Hilda had proven herself a trustworthy partner in crime back then, but Claude's trust has always been conditional at best, difficult to maintain and never fully given. 

Still, he doesn't outright deny it; he allows Hilda her conclusion. 

"Everything that happened between you two at the end of the year makes sense now. It's so sad." 

"It's history," Claude says, refusing to lament the situation any further than he already has. It's in the past, and they need to focus on the present. 

"I'm glad I don't have a mark. All that work trying to stay alive with someone breathing down your neck..." 

For Hilda, that is a novelty. For Claude, it's par for the course. 

He shrugs. "Dimitri is hardly breathing down my neck." Yet. 

She narrows her eyes, watching him for a moment, looking as though she wants to ask: _What will you do when you find him?_ Or perhaps she's thinking that Claude is the one breathing down Dimitri's neck, which would be fair. He has little choice; he must find Dimitri, before Dimitri finds him first. 

Whatever thoughts are in her mind, she does not give voice to them. Instead, she transitions the conversation. "I've been thinking...maybe I wouldn't mind a little work, if you need a partner in crime again. Watching Holst alternate between border patrol and war preparations is honestly exhausting." Her face says otherwise — she doesn't look exhausted so much as she does concerned. 

They all are afraid for the future, deep down inside. 

"Our time is running out," Claude says. The ruse of neutrality is all but up; the war will soon travel to Alliance territory, unless they take action first. "We will have to take a stance." That was the subject of today's round table meeting — an assessment of how this will pan out for everyone, and an ultimately split vote on how to handle it. " _I_ will have to," he clarifies. 

"You have people loyal to you, Claude," Hilda says. "You've done a good job. Even Lorenz said he's relieved with how you've been handling things, and you know how he is." 

There's an implication there about Claude's intentions. Hilda is smart; she has an inkling of Claude could be planning — of why he called a round table meeting today and took a vote. 

"How do you think our old Academy is doing these days?" Claude asks. If he's to minimize conflict and keep the war as far away from the Alliance as possible, he's going to need a new base of operations — away from the Alliance nobles who would be quick to spill his plans to Edelgard. 

"I bet it's as much of a disaster as the day we left it," Hilda replies. "But you know what I'm good at? Making people clean things up for me." 

Claude laughs. Hilda laughs too. For the first time in months — maybe years — Claude feels an easing of the tension he carries. 

"Then I suppose we have a plan," Claude says, standing. 

Hilda stands too. A beat passes between them, but then she walks over to him and gives him a hug. 

It feels nice, Claude thinks as he hugs her back, to have someone in his corner, on his side, willing to help. 

It'll be easier to survive with someone at his right hand. 

* * *

Weeks later, standing on the Goddess Tower by himself, Claude takes a moment to marvel at the way Garreg Mach begins to transform with life breathed into it anew. Below him, his former classmates work to restore the monastery and prepare to fight in the war. He hadn't expected that all of them would show up at the designated time and place to chase away bandits — and to unite under his leadership. But they did, in the name of future peace and an end to war. 

When he commissions their banner, he does not use the shield of the Alliance. Instead, he uses the symbol that connects them all. 

As he gathers everyone before him to unfurl the banner, a hush falls over the crowd. 

When they see the Golden Deer, rearing upon two legs as though ready to enter battle, they cheer. 

And Claude feels as though the path to his dreams is finally within his grasp once more. 

* * *

Claude's dreams _would_ be within his grasp, if he could track down the one obstacle in his way. 

As the war ramps up and the Golden Deer fight to reclaim peace, tides begin to turn in their favor. Judith assists with soldiers and resources, Hilda transforms Garreg Mach into a true base of operations, and Claude leads them through battles into victory. 

The church proves to be difficult to win over; they have little trust for Claude and his motives, and after his experiences as a student at Garreg Mach, Claude has little trust for them. But with extra charm and flattery, as well as a promise to dedicate some effort to restoring the church and to finding Rhea — to which Claude readily agrees because he has questions he'd like to ask her himself — Claude manages to get them on his side, if tentatively. 

All the pieces begin to fall into place. Claude's numbers grow, the Golden Deer fight with everything they have, and an end to war finally seems attainable. 

And yet, Claude is still trapped in a cycle; he is still forced to look over his shoulder, to step carefully, to dip his eyes down to his mark every time he undresses. 

He searches for Dimitri, and Dimitri eludes him. 

It almost feels deliberate. Claude once spent months learning as much as he could about Dimitri; back then, he had wanted to believe that he kept himself closed off, unreachable, far from an open book. Now, with the clarity of hindsight, he wonders how much he inadvertently revealed. 

He wonders if Dimitri knows he's searching. 

After months of reports of failures — _no one who would reasonably pass for the former prince could be located, Sir_ — Claude receives his answer. 

"We found someone," a soldier reports right on the heels of the battle for the Great Bridge of Myrddin. "We tried to bring him in, but..." She hesitates, evidently displeased with having to admit to failing her mission. "He claims to be the actual usurped Prince of Faerghus." 

Around Claude, the Golden Deer are cheering their victory. He hears laughter and cries of celebration. Someone announces that they should hold a feast in the Dining Hall upon their return. More cheers surge in volume. 

"Where is he?" Claude asks. 

"He will be awaiting you at the border of Galatea and Daphnel." The soldier holds out a piece of parchment, on which is a hastily sketched map. The handwriting along the designated meeting point does not belong to Dimitri; it isn't the handwriting that Claude knew years ago. 

Dimitri is not alone. 

Claude looks back up at the soldier, surmising that this is why they did not bring him in cuffs. Dimitri on his own is already a force of strength and emotion; Dimitri with soldiers at his side is too formidable for a few scouts to manage. 

"He said you shouldn't come alone," the soldier adds. 

_Ever honorable_ , Claude thinks to himself, _Even when pulling a move of his own._

"How many were with him?" Claude asks. 

"Four. We made sure no one else was lying in wait, but whether he manages to scrounge up more soldiers before you arrive..." She trails off. It's evident that she thinks this meeting is a bad idea. 

And she's right — but not for the reason she thinks. It is not the risk of facing Dimitri head on that is the biggest threat to Claude's life. 

It is the fact that even now — even after all this time and distance has passed — Claude does not know if he can truly trust himself not to waver when it finally comes time for him to break the cycle. 

And end Dimitri. 

"Please find Hilda, Leonie, Marianne, and —" Claude allows himself a brief hesitation, considering the decision he is about to make — and the risk within it. "Lorenz. Bring them to me." 

The soldier nods and leaves to fetch them. 

In the meanwhile, Claude walks over to Judith and asks her to lead the march back to Garreg Mach, explaining that he'll meet up with them a day into their journey. She gives Claude a pointed look, indicating that she knows he's up to something he likely shouldn't be, but ultimately agrees to stand in for him. 

By the time they finish discussing the details, the soldier returns with Hilda, Leonie, Marianne, and Lorenz. 

"I need you four with me. I'll explain on the way." 

"Of course," Marianne replies. 

"More work," Hilda comments, though she doesn't sound too bothered by it. 

"I'm on it," Leonie says, walking off to ready the mounts. 

"Me?" Lorenz asks. 

"Yes, you too," Claude replies. "Unless you'd rather march back with the rest?" 

"If —" Lorenz begins. He momentarily falters, then says, "If you need me at your side, I will of course join you. I had only thought that you would prefer someone else in my stead." 

"Why?" Claude asks, knowing the answer but deliberately pushing Lorenz to speak it out loud. 

"It is no secret that I have not trusted you. And — I believe you did not trust me either." 

"It's hard to trust someone who has been vying for my spot all this time," Claude says lightly. 

"Yes, I recognize that," Lorenz admits quietly. "It was — a failing on my part. You have grown into an admirable leader." 

"Not a failing." Claude gives him a smile. "You were right to keep an eye on me, and that's exactly why I want you to join me for this." 

Lorenz frowns. "I do not follow..." 

"By being so critical of me, you encouraged me to do better. To improve." It's a fancy way of dressing it up, but it isn't a falsehood. Lorenz showed Claude just how important it was to keep his secrets — but also inspired him to work toward gaining trust from his peers once he left Garreg Mach. His critiques helped bare Claude's shortcomings, and it was what Claude needed at the time. 

Claude continues. "And because you were so intent on proving that I wasn't fit for leading the Alliance, I know that your decision to join the Golden Deer, against your family's wishes, proves just how dedicated you are to putting an end to this war." 

"I merely want what's best for the Alliance," Lorenz replies, his cheeks coloring. 

"I know. And that's what I need from you." 

They're quiet for a moment, looking each other in the eye, saying nothing. Then Lorenz nods. "Of course. You have my word that I will always put the Alliance first." 

Claude decides he made the right choice. 

He claps Lorenz on the back before heading off to prepare to leave 

* * *

He waits to tell them until they're close to Daphnel Territory. 

They stop to eat, sitting around a hastily erected campfire. In between mouthfuls, Claude says, "Dimitri is alive." 

No one is surprised. Rumored sightings have increased of late; this is the logical conclusion. 

"He's waiting for us in Galatea," Claude continues. 

"Is he going to join us?" Leonie asks. "That'll really turn things in our favor." 

"That would be wonderful," Marianne agrees. 

Hilds says nothing. 

"If he were joining us," Lorenz says, "He would have met us at the Bridge." 

"Lorenz is right." Claude keeps his tone light despite the secret that he has to bare in order to make sure everyone is on alert for this meeting — to ensure that, if this ends in blows or even death, they will be prepared. "Dimitri won't be helping us out." 

"Then why are we meeting him?" Leonie asks. 

Claude allows the briefest of hesitations to gather his words — to speak openly for once. "Dimitri and I share a mark." 

A shocked silence follows his statement. Marianne looks crushed. Leonie looks sympathetic but also angry — perhaps on his behalf. Hilda sighs. 

Lorenz is the first one to speak. "I knew you must have had one but I could never think of who might share it — if I had none." 

That makes Claude smile. "You were never my enemy." 

"I suppose not." 

"But — Dimitri?" Marianne asks. "He was?" 

Claude thinks about spending long nights in the library, huddled close together. He thinks about cuddling Dimitri under a sky full of stars. He remembers waking up after nearly dying to Dimitri holding vigil. 

He recalls, clearly, the feelings he held within his heart — and the vulnerability that came with them. 

And a small, subtle part of him still feels them — still yearns. 

Dimitri still holds a piece of him hostage, even after all this time. 

"He is," Claude replies. "There's no mistaking it." 

"We're behind you," Hilda says firmly. "No matter what." 

"Absolutely," Leonie adds. 

"Of course," Lorenz agrees. 

Marianne touches one wrist, and then the other. Claude wonders if she's acknowledging her own marks and the weight that comes with them. "There has to be another way." 

"I don't intend to fight with him here. I just want to talk, and I think he does too." 

"But it will happen," Lorenz supplies. "It always does." 

"So I've heard," Claude agrees. "But hopefully that will be a problem for the future." 

Marianne nods. She encircles her left wrist with her right hand. "I'm with you too. Even — if it comes to that." 

"Thank you," Claude says. 

He means it. 

* * *

The first person they see in the distance is Dedue. He stands in full armor, holding an axe, looking far from relaxed. As they dismount from their wyverns and horses to approach him, Claude notices that his face is scarred, giving him an indication of the toll this war has had on him. 

"Dedue!" Marianne is the first to speak, breaking the tense silence. 

"Marianne," Dedue acknowledges, tone gentle, which contrasts with the way he holds himself. Then, firmer: "Claude. His Majesty awaits you. This way, please." 

"His Majesty?" Claude repeats. "Has Dimitri been crowned?" 

Dedue gives him a look that Claude would have considered uncharacteristic of him during their time at the Academy. It sits firmly between angry and disappointed, making Claude wonder how much he knows about what happened between himself and Dimitri. At a minimum, he must know about the mark. "He has us, who acknowledge him as king." 

"Is that all it takes these days?" Claude asks, tone jovial. 

"Are you not a leader by virtue of those who follow you?" Dedue doesn't wait for a response. "Your company would suggest that you have learned some lessons in the importance of nurturing friendships." 

There's a dig in that statement, one that goes back several years to a brief discussion about flowers. Back then, Dedue had said, _I do not believe you would treat His Highness badly._ Now he looks at Claude with more distrust than he's seen since his early days as leader of the Alliance. 

"None of them would call me king," Claude replies lightly. 

"We can discuss titles later," Leonie interjects. "Let's get this over with." 

Claude doesn't argue with that. They're overdue for a rest, having departed right after a long battle, and the conversation before them is bound to be exhausting in its own right. 

Dedue leads them through a wooded area until they get to a clearing. As soon as they emerge from the trees, Claude's attention is drawn to Dimitri. 

And Dimitri's attention is immediately drawn to Claude. 

Dimitri, it seems, had been pacing prior to their arrival. He appears tense and unsettled as he turns to look at Claude. He's taller, broader, and more commanding than the Dimitri of Claude's memories, but it's clear the years have been as unkind to him as they had been to Dedue. He wears an eyepatch and long cloak that has seen better days; his appearance is distinctly unkempt, far from regal, and his stare is wild. 

Their eyes meet. Claude feels his mark sear into his skin. 

Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain are there as well. Claude sees them in the periphery of his vision. Sylvain and Ingrid are seated at a small campfire but stand upon being joined by Claude and the others. Felix leans against a tree, arms folded, glaring. 

A beat passes where everyone observes each other. Claude feels the former Blue Lions staring at him, and he knows that the Golden Deer are studying them in turn. But throughout this heavy moment, Claude only looks at Dimitri, and Dimitri only looks at Claude. 

Sylvain is the one who breaks the silence. "Long time no see! Hilda, Leonie, Marianne, the years have been kind to you. All three of you look divine." 

Ingrid rolls her eyes. 

Leonie says, "We're covered in dirt and grime." 

"Can you blame me for liking my women a little —" 

"Shut up, Sylvain," Felix snaps. 

"I'm just having a little fun," Sylvain argues. "I bet Claude's thinking the same thing about Dimitri. Something like, 'I can't believe how tall, dark, and handsome he is now! Look at him brood!'" 

"Sylvain —" Ingrid warns. 

"'If only I didn't share a mark with him,'" Sylvain continues in a singsong voice. 

Claude raises his eyebrows. 

"What?" Sylvain asks. "Did you think he wouldn't tell us? You told your friends, right?" 

"I didn't think you'd be so quick to reveal that all of you knew," Claude answers. "I'm guessing it's been a while since you last played chess?" 

Sylvain smiles brightly but his eyes are cold. He opens his mouth to reply. 

Dimitri speaks first, a single, booming word that silences everyone. "Enough!" 

Sylvain closes his mouth. Felix steps beside Dimitri. Dedue moves to stand at his left. Ingrid and Sylvain fall in line thereafter. 

The Golden Deer remain in relative disarray around him, but Claude senses that they are ready for whatever may result from this meeting. 

"Maybe we should have met alone," Claude says with a smile. "Streamlined this conversation." 

"I requested company for your sake, not for my own," Dimitri tells him. 

"Threats already?" Claude asks teasingly. "And here I thought we would at least catch up first." 

"We have only one matter to discuss." Dimitri takes a step forward. The Blue Lions stand tense. 

Claude takes a step forward as well, upturning his hands. "Let us discuss." 

"Tell me what she is planning." 

It isn't what Claude expects to hear. He drops his hands but is careful not to react with surprise. "Who, Edelgard? How should I know?" He knows enough to make moves of his own, of course, but this implication — that he is somehow in league with Edelgard — is entirely off base. 

"You know," Dimitri says. "You will tell me or I will strike you down right here." 

"You will do no such thing," Hilda interrupts. "This is a friendly meeting, remember?" 

Sylvain snorts. "Sure, we're all nice and cozy." 

Hilda ignores Sylvain. She speaks to Dimitri again. "You do know we're fighting against her, right? Just like you're hoping to do." 

"A lie," Dimitri says, his voice tight. "You are working with her." 

"You're kidding," Leonie says. "We just came from a battle —" 

"I do not care where you came from or what you have been doing," Dimitri growls. He steps forward and grabs Claude by the arm. Claude does not flinch; he keeps his body loose. Around him, the Golden Deer draw their weapons. This causes Dimitri's entourage to ready their weapons in turn. 

The meeting turns into a standoff. 

"Easy now," Claude says to everyone. "Dimitri was just letting me go. Right?" 

Dimitri squeezes his arm until the pain is nearly unbearable. Then he releases him with a shove that sends Claude a step backward. 

"The mark on your arm proves where you stand," Dimitri says. "You are in league with her, and you are deluding your people into believing otherwise." 

"I don't know about that," Claude replies. "Maybe I'm your biggest enemy because I'm going to kill Edelgard before you get the chance." 

Dimitri moves to grab him again, his motions more violent this time. Felix takes hold of his arm before he can. 

"This is stupid," Felix says to Dimitri. Then, to Claude: "If you have nothing of importance to say, leave." 

"You invited me, remember?" 

Marianne surprises everyone by speaking up. "Can't we try to put aside our differences and work together? At least until the war is over." 

"Impossible," Dedue says, his voice softened for Marianne's sake. "We will never be able to trust Claude." 

"And it is difficult for us to trust Dimitri, considering how he is continuously attempting to attack Claude," Lorenz adds. 

"A stalemate," Sylvain pipes up. 

Dimitri is glaring at Claude; Felix still has hold of his arm. 

Claude meets his eye with a smile. 

"Leave us," Claude says. "All of you." 

"What?" Hilda asks. "No way." 

"He's ready to strangle you," Leonie points out. 

"You have no right to dismiss us," Ingrid says. 

"Leave us," Dimitri echoes, stronger in tone, pulling his arm free of Felix's grasp. 

The retreat is reluctant, slow, and filled with protest, but eventually everyone disappears behind the tree line, leaving Claude and Dimitri alone. 

This is a risky move, but Dimitri is as much at risk as Claude in this scenario. Though Dimitri is stronger, Claude isn't without tricks of his own — poisoned daggers hidden in the folds of his clothing, questionable vials of harmful substances tucked out of sight. 

"You are a fool if you think I will not harm you," Dimitri says, though without the audience, his voice becomes a hair more measured. 

"I know you will harm me," Claude replies. "Or try to, one day. But not today." 

Claude looks at him — really looks at him this time. The man who kissed him and treated him kindly all those years ago — whose heart Claude crushed as soon as it got to be too much, too dangerous, too close to something real. He sees the circles under Dimitri's eye, the grimace in his features, the way he favors his left side as though healing from an injury. 

He could pull out one of his daggers in the blink of an eye and end him here and now, quickly, before Dimitri could react. He could leave here in peace and later send someone after Dimitri to put poison into his food — a poison that Dimitri would be incapable of tasting. He could call back the Golden Deer and Blue Lions and fight this out until the issue of the mark is finally resolved. 

Claude does none of these things. 

He merely asks, "Have you been sleeping?" 

There is no flicker of kindness within Dimitri's eye. He makes no attempt to indulge Claude with an answer. "Tell me what Edelgard is planning." 

"I have my guesses, same as you," Claude says with a shrug. "But that's all they are." 

This time, when Dimitri grabs for him, there is no one to hold him back. He wrenches Claude's arm, then tears off his spaulder. "This!" he yells as he rips Claude's sleeve, "This is proof of what you are!" 

He bears Claude's mark. 

Claude remains pliant, carefully nonthreatening, though his mark burns with warning as soon as Dimitri's hands are upon him. "It's proof of what _we_ are. Not proof of my allegiances." 

Dimitri bears down on him, his grip tight. Claude reaches with his free hand and touches Dimitri's face — the face that once looked upon him with affection. 

"Have been sleeping?" Claude asks again. "I haven't been. Not much. It's hard, with so many lives dependent upon me — and lost because of me." 

Dimitri immediately recoils, releasing Claude's arm. "I will not allow you to — to do this." 

"I'm trying to make conversation." 

"You are trying to manipulate me. I know you, Claude — I remember you." 

Those words cut deep — because of course that's what he's doing, and of course Dimitri sees through it, after Claude's past missteps. 

But also because it's more than that. 

It's always been more than that. 

"I've thought of you a lot over the years," Claude says. He is the one to close the gap now, stepping closer to Dimitri. 

"I have thought of running my lance through your ribcage," Dimitri replies tensely, his eye never leaving Claude. "I have thought of choking the life out of you. Of turning you into a corpse." 

"I thought of poisoning you." Claude gives him a small smile. He takes another step, then runs his fingers over the fur of Dimitri's cloak, trailing his touch down to his arm. "I'd say we're pretty even." 

"The next time we meet, I will kill you," Dimitri warns. 

"I'll probably kill you first." Claude settles his fingers along the place he knows Dimitri's mark to be — rests them against the fabric that hides it from view. "But for now — let me ask: Have you been sleeping?" 

There, finally, a glimmer of the Dimitri beneath the anger and pain: a slight bowing of his head, an easing of his glare, and an exhaled word filled with the burden of lives taken, "No." 

"You need to," Claude says. "You won't win in this state." 

It's true that Claude has thought a lot about Dimitri over the years. He thought about the various ways he could track him down and kill him, to put an end to the uncertainty between them, to stake his victory in the name of his dreams. He's thought about what life after Dimitri would look like — how he would be able to awaken in the morning without a glance at his mark and grim determination in his mind. 

But he's also thought of this: the simplicity of kind touch, the way Dimitri might settle under his caress, and the hope that Dimitri might, if only for one final time, look at him as though he were more than an enemy. 

Dimitri does that now. He glances at Claude's hand, then looks back at his face. There's a clarity in his features that wasn't there a moment prior, a recognition that goes beyond the labeling of _enemy_. 

His expression approaches something close to affection — to a care that Claude once knew and chose to reject. 

Claude wonders what Dimitri sees in his face; he feels his control over the situation is fragile. 

Dimitri rests his hand atop Claude's. 

"I offered to hold your hand once," Dimitri reminds him. He jerks Claude's hand away from him. 

There it goes: the shattering of his advantage; the culling of any measure of hope. 

Dimitri releases him entirely. "Now you have no choice but to dig in the dirt." 

"Luckily for me," Claude says without allowing himself any reaction beyond his own internal sense of having been figuratively slapped, "I'm used to getting my hands dirty." 

"Next time," Dimitri reminds him. 

"I'll be ready," Claude promises. 

Dimitri rounds up his Lions. Claude rounds up his Deer. 

"What now?" Lorenz asks as they return to their mounts. 

"Same plan as before. We fight," Claude says, and pretends that he never wished for anything else. 

* * *

Shortly after the fight for the Great Bridge of Myrddin, the Golden Deer prepare to be intercepted at Gronder — not only by Edelgard, but also by an unidentified army that Claude knows to belong to Dimitri. 

Claude is prepared. He has been preparing for the final encounter with his fated enemy his entire life. This is the challenge that he knew would greet him one day — the biggest test of his resolve and skill. This is his path forward — the only way to achieve his dreams. 

But as he leaves his war council to take a walk to clear his mind, he admits to himself that it feels too sudden — to have met Dimitri just a couple weeks prior, and now, to be prepared to meet him on the battlefield once and for all. 

Claude has done his best to keep everything running smoothly — to work toward a promising end to war, a future of peace. But it has, and continues, to come at a cost. 

As he walks, Marianne hurries after him, calling out for him. "Do you have a moment?" 

"Sure," Claude replies, slowing his pace. "What's on your mind?" 

She waits until she's made it to his side to explain. "I've been thinking a lot about Dimitri. And about the enemy marks." 

"Me too," Claude admits. 

"Do you think you made the right choice in meeting with him?" Marianne asks. 

"Well, I'm still alive to tell the tale, so it wasn't a wrong choice." He shrugs, but his flippancy is feigned; it feels like a misstep in retrospect, his resolve less sure than before. The bruises where Dimitri had gripped him tightly have faded, but the memory of Dimitri's brief reaction to being touched in turn has not. 

But it was perhaps the wrong play; he should have ended this the way he has most of the challenges throughout his life: with a carefully constructed scheme. 

"I think it was the right thing to do. You showed that you still had some faith in him — and I think that was strong of you." 

Claude smiles — a genuine smile because Marianne's remark makes him reflect on how far she's come since their days at the Academy. "Thank you," he says. 

She asks, "Do you remember when you told me that my marks were good? You said I was 'twice blessed.'" 

"Yeah, I remember that." It had been the Almyran way of understanding marks, looking at them as a gift, a way of proving one's strength, instead of a foreboding omen. Claude had never fully subscribed to that way of thinking, considering the many trials he had to face throughout his life — the many attempts at keeping him from seeing any kind of future, let alone one that included his dreams. His mark seemed like another burden, just like his parentage and the path that awaits him back in Almyra. 

"I liked hearing that but I never really believed it. I still thought it must be a curse, sharing a mark with myself. But — I don't want to think that anymore." She smiles now, a rare, unburdened smile. "I'm going to look at it as a blessing. A way of proving my strength. And I've decided — it doesn't have to be through getting hurt, or hurting others." 

"There are other ways of showing strength," Claude agrees, feeling proud of Marianne for finding confidence and the will to face the future. 

"Yes," Marianne agrees. "And I hope you can find that path too." 

"Me too," Claude says, keeping to himself the fact that his mark aches in protest against her words. 

* * *

The battle at Gronder goes poorly for everyone involved. With three factions on the field and no professors to assist with organization as they had years ago, the fighting leads to more confusion than it does victory. The chaos worsens when Edelgard sets the hill on fire; confused allies attack each other instead of the enemy, and it becomes clear the toll will be great. 

Claude does his best to operate as both tactician and commander, but his skill as a commander can only carry them so far. He's forced to dismount from his wyvern to call out orders, but even that leads to little cohesion within his units. In the end, it's up to each individual person to do their best to fight to survive. 

He doesn't seek out Dimitri, and judging by the way Dimitri calls for Edelgard's head, Dimitri doesn't specifically seek him out either. But as has always been the case for them, they wind up drawn to each other all the same. 

They approach each other while the battle rages on around them. 

There is only blind hatred in Dimitri's one eye. All the affection Claude once knew — and saw once again, briefly, those weeks ago — has been replaced by murderous intent. 

Claude does not carry hate in his heart, but he does carry his resolve to survive by any means necessary, and knows that must show in his own set expression. 

They both wield their hero's relics, legacies left to them like burdens they must carry until the end. 

Dimitri raises Areadbhar. Claude nocks an arrow. 

They fight. Claude attacks Dimitri first, his arrow nearly catching him in the chest. Dimitri jerks to the side at the last moment, raising his lance to charge, and the arrow takes him in then shoulder instead. Claude immediately fires off another arrow, and it pierces Dimitri's arm just below the first. 

As Dimitri strikes with his lance in retaliation, Claude has no time to nock another arrow. He abandons his bow to reach behind himself for the axe on his back but fails to pull it free in time to block. Dimitri's blow hits his side; Claude feels the wet seepage of blood bloom from his new wound. 

He has no time to think about that. He adjusts his grip on the axe and then strikes. His gait is off as a result of his new injury, so he only manages to strike Dimitri's leg, the hit far from fatal. Dimitri grunts but remains mostly unfazed, driven by pure focus toward his end goal. 

Dimitri strikes him again, truer this time, the lance piercing Claude's abdomen; the wound is deep, bleeding profusely, and will be fatal if he doesn't find someone to heal him soon. Giddily, Claude thinks to himself, _He really plans on killing me,_ as though only now it has been confirmed — as though only in being severely injured, does Claude manage to acknowledge himself, _And I intend to kill him too._

Claude lifts his axe one final time, seeing the opening he needs as Dimitri readjusts his stance. With the last of his strength, he raises the axe, intending to bring it down on Dimitri with as much force as his wound will allow — 

"Wait!" Marianne yells, a burst of white magic following her cry. 

The magic doesn't envelop Claude. Instead, Marianne heals Dimitri. 

It's such an unexpected move, Claude and Dimitri both pause out of surprise. 

Claude loses his grip on the axe. It falls to the ground. His legs tremble, threatening to send him after it. 

Dimitri still holds his lance. He raises it, though his movements are now less sure. 

Marianne reaches them and places herself between Dimitri and Claude. 

"You've had your fight," Marianne tells Dimitri. 

Dimitri looks at her, then looks back at Claude in time to see him drop to his knees, clutching his abdomen, finally giving into the pain. 

"Please," Marianne begs. "Dimitri." 

Dimitri spares one final look for Claude, and then takes off, stalking in another direction, allowing Marianne — the one who healed him when anyone else would have killed him — her request. 

Marianne drops to her knees beside Claude, quickly healing him. 

It solves the immediate threat of bleeding out, but Claude still needs her help to stand — and to keep anyone else from attacking them while she helps him find another healer. 

"For a moment there, I thought you were going to choose him over me," Claude jokes, his voice strained. 

"I chose both of you," Marianne replies tiredly. 

More seriously, Claude says, "That was brave of you." He attempts to look back at Dimitri, despite the way the motion aggravates his wounds. He manages to catch a glance at him tearing his way through soldiers. 

"Strength," Marianne says. 

"Strength," Claude agrees. 

* * *

There is no clear victor at the end of the battle. All sides experience losses and all go their separate ways. 

The Golden Deer huddle together for a post-battle meeting. The conversations are sombre and punctuated by groans of pain; nearly everyone is injured in some way and the healers are exhausted. 

Claude is back to standing on his own two feet. He's still battered and bleeding, but he's functional. Others are worse off, so he turns down further attempts to heal him, requesting anyone who still has enough energy to tend to those most in need. 

Hilda shares the news of Dimitri's death. 

It does not feel like a victory. 

Claude touches his arm upon hearing her account. He tries to see if there is any life left in his mark — tries to elicit that familiar ache by admitting to himself, _This is never how I wanted it to go._

But his mark remains unresponsive; he feels nothing at all. 

He has little time to process that. With the Imperial army still in the area, he has to lead his troops to a secure place to camp and heal before the long march back to Garreg Mach. 

As he mounts his wyvern, a messenger brings him a letter. Claude pockets it and focuses on getting everyone to safety. 

* * *

Claude doesn't read the letter until he's in his tent that night, long after he's checked in with everyone and ensured that the healers have had time to rest. He has had no time to process the news of Dimitri's death, and no time to reflect on what that means for himself and his future. All he could do was maintain as jovial a demeanor as possible to keep his soldiers moving forward — until they could finally rest. 

Now, he sits with a candle and reads. 

> _Claude,_
> 
> _I am writing you because we were friendly once, and I believe we could be again. I have some information regarding enemy marks that I think you would find pertinent to some questions you had long ago, though it occurs to me you may have already found your answers. Nonetheless, this is an invitation to speak to me about my research whenever you have the time._
> 
> _It may also be worth noting that I have uncovered something particularly interesting about this war during my research. It turns out that there are other forces at play. Edelgard's secrets have done her no favors, though I suppose the same could be said for you and Dimitri._
> 
> _Consider: perhaps there is another way._
> 
> _Linhardt_

Claude sighs, setting the letter aside. It's just vague enough to be frustrating, though the intent is clear enough. Linhardt is suggesting that the root cause of this war is not what they have believed it to be — and in doing so, is suggesting that he and Edelgard may be able to find common ground. 

It seems impossible to consider after the battle they just had — the idea of a truce, this far in. So much has already been lost as a result of this war, and Claude has many people relying on him to end this in a way that finally puts Edelgard to rest. 

But Claude is tired of killing — he's tired of walking a bloody road toward peace. And though they are here in large part because of Edelgard's choices — he knows she must be tired too. 

And he is aware that his own choices have played their own role as well. He touches his arm as he had earlier, but the only ache he feels is the one within his heart. 

"May I come in?" Marianne's voice asks from beyond the tent, interrupting his thoughts. 

"Sure," Claude replies, sitting up straight to hide how exhausted he feels. 

"I'm sorry, I know you need your rest. I just thought you should know..." She pulls up sleeves and shows Claude her wrists. With evident pride, she says, "My marks are gone." 

"How?" Claude asks. He has never heard of a mark fading. They remain with the bearer for life. 

"I think — I think I passed my challenge." 

Though his body protests, Claude stands so he can get a better look. There is no sign of any mark on either of Marianne's wrists. 

"Marianne," he breathes. 

"I'm no longer my worst enemy," she says, her voice filled with relief. "That means — there is another way. For you." 

For him, and — 

Dimitri 

* * *

He leaves just before dawn. 

His progress in flying his wyvern is slow, given his injuries, but he makes it to Gronder field as the sun begins to rise. He searches for what Hilda described — a body pierced by Imperial spears — and dares to believe in a chance that somehow, Dimitri managed to survive. 

He finds no body, but he does find a significant amount of blood and a trail leading to a cluster of trees. Claude follows it until he has no choice but to dismount from his wyvern due to the overgrowth. Then he resumes tracking on foot. 

He finds Dimitri slumped up against a tree, bleeding from multiple wounds, clutching his side. Claude's two arrows are still planted in his arm. 

He is alone. 

He looks at Claude with wide eyes, clearly having expected to remain alone until he breathed his last. He holds a dagger in his hands, his only means of defense. 

His armor is battered and torn along his left arm, exposing his skin — and the mark that brands it. At some point during the battle, the mark must have been slashed by a sharp weapon, for a wound cuts across it, bleeding freely. 

"I never wanted to be your enemy," Dimitri confesses, his voice laden with pain. 

"I never wanted to be yours," Claude admits. 

"I remember what you told me of your dreams." Dimitri moves to shakily hold out the dagger. He offers it to Claude hilt-first. "Take this and cut a path to them." 

Claude takes the dagger. 

Dimitri raises his chin, bearing his throat, and spreads himself out, awaiting a final blow. 

Holding the dagger, Claude thinks of Marianne persevering despite being her own worst enemy. He thinks of the Golden Deer, who have supported him throughout this war — and who remained with him even back at the Academy, when he was difficult to trust. He thinks about his mother, warning him against being caught in a cycle with his enemy. And he thinks about Dimitri's Blue Lions, loyal until the very end, mourning the loss of their king. 

_Consider: perhaps there is another way._

All these years, Claude wanted to consider it. Back during their time at the Academy, he wanted to believe in a possible future where he and Dimitri could stand side by side, could sit under the stars, could watch the sun rise before them, as it does now in this very moment. 

But Claude had wanted to survive — and he had not allowed himself to believe that he could have both. He had never trusted Dimitri enough to believe he could want both as well — and hadn't trusted himself enough to accept Dimitri's earnest affection. 

He decides to end the cycle that traps him and Dimitri — that casts them as enemies and pits them against each other. He grips the dagger, raises it — 

and slashes his own arm, through fabric and skin both, slicing through his mark. 

He creates his own path: one where he survives, and Dimitri does too. 

He chooses both. 

Dimitri watches, wide-eyed. 

Claude holds out his hand. "This is the path I choose." 

Dimitri hesitates. Then, slowly, he reaches out and accepts Claude's hand. 

Claude helps Dimitri to his feet. He holds Dimitri's hand as he supports his weight and guides him out of the woods, toward his wyvern — 

and into the sunrise that heralds a new dawn.

  
Art by [mezzo](https://twitter.com/OnionPax)


	3. Epilogue

Six months of healing and negotiations later, the Golden Deer and Blue Lions camp just outside of Enbarr. They share a meal and talk about the plans for the next day. When they have reviewed all important details for the following day, the conversation shifts toward jovial topics, like Dedue and Marianne's joint plan to restore the greenhouse at Garreg Mach and Felix's new combat art. Sylvain jokes with Hilda, Ingrid and Leonie talk about hunting, and Lorenz compliments Claude on yet another successful march. The others chat amongst themselves as well. All of the Golden Deer mix with all of the Blue Lions as though they were always meant to be this way — united under a common cause. 

It is comfortable — friendly. 

It feels like Claude's dreams are within his grasp, in a way he never would have expected all those years ago. 

As night falls, they retreat to their tents to get a good night sleep before the long day ahead. 

Dimitri joins Claude in his tent. This is a common occurrence lately. They take the time to speak quietly with one another, often about council matters and future plans for peace. Sometimes, they talk about each other — and about themselves. 

It's slow going. Dimitri is still healing from the toll the war has taken on his mind. Claude is still slow to reveal all his truths, finding it difficult to fully voice everything that he has never permitted himself to share. But little by little, they find each other again, and in doing so, begin to fall in love. 

Or, perhaps, they begin to acknowledge that they never quite fell out of love. 

Claude lights a candle. Dimitri sits on the bedroll. 

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Claude asks as he sits beside him. 

"No," Dimitri admits. 

In the morning, they will face Edelgard, not as her enemies, but as her guests. They will begin to negotiate toward peace — and in turn, prepare for the real war against their common enemy: Those Who Slither in the Dark. 

"I fear that I may...struggle, when I see her," Dimitri admits. "I do not know if I can keep myself from..." He trails off, looking down at his hands. 

"You faced me," Claude reminds him, "and you let me live." 

Dimitri says, "This is different." 

Claude takes his hands in his own. "I'll be there. Felix will be there. Dedue will be there. All of us will keep you grounded." 

Dimitri has come a long way since Claude helped him out of the woods and to his camp. He has dreams now too, rather than the nightmares he used to carry. He wants to end this war and become king — and help his people rebuild. 

He wants peace. 

They all do. 

Even Edelgard, who needs them in her fight ahead — and who is willing to negotiate to join forces. 

The negotiations won't be easy and Claude doubts that they will see eye-to-eye, but he's here to make sure that everyone walks away on fair terms. 

He's here to set the foundation for his own dreams. 

Their marks haven't disappeared. Neither have the scars that cut cleanly across them. But Claude prefers it this way; he wants to keep the reminder of how far they come — of the cycle that they broke in order to return here: in this tent, together, not as enemies, not united under false pretenses, but as two people who deeply care for one another. 

Dimitri looks up at Claude. His eye catches the candlelight. It holds none of the anger and hate of months prior. He looks at Claude with the affection that Claude once wanted more than he would allow himself to admit. 

Claude kisses him — slowly, chastely, keeping Dimitri in the present moment, reminding him that he carries affection within his own heart as well. 

Dimitri returns the kiss, then deepens it, moving his hand to Claude's face and cupping his cheek. 

"Will you stay?" Claude asks when they part. He stands and begins removing his outer layers — undoing his sash and pulling off his surcoat. 

Intimacy is still new for them — still fragile. Dimitri has a tent of his own, for his sake and for Claude's. More often than not, it's Claude who needs a little space — time to gather his thoughts, an opportunity to slow down the amount of vulnerability he offers. Dimitri is happy to accommodate, though he knows that he can request otherwise if he has a particularly rough night. 

But tonight Claude wants Dimitri here — and not just because he believes it's what Dimitri needs. 

This step is big for him too. The prospect of ending the war and the delicate balance of peace both rest in his hands. Whereas in the past he would be happy to retreat on his own to overthink his plans, he is learning to admit that he wants Dimitri here — to hold him close, to help him fall asleep, to distract him from his overactive mind. 

He folds his surcoat and turns to set it aside. Dimitri stands, then, and comes up behind him to wrap his arms around Claude's waist. "Of course," Dimitri murmurs against his neck. 

Claude tilts his head and Dimitri presses his lips to his skin. 

"Then we'll both sleep well tonight," Claude comments, a smile on his lips. He turns so that he's facing Dimitri and can begin undressing him. He unclasps his cloak and guides him out of his layers, taking his time, running his fingers from hem to skin before each tug. 

Once Dimitri's torso is bare, Claude's eyes linger on his mark. He hasn't felt the need to greet each morning with a glance down to his own anymore, but in these quiet moments, he allows himself to look at Dimitri's — to remember. 

Dimitri doesn't let him stay distracted for too long; once Claude has stopped undressing him, Dimitri runs his hands over his chest, taking hold of his shirt, which he slowly pulls upward, revealing Claude little by little, until he removes the shirt entirely. 

There's a scar on his abdomen where Dimitri's lance once struck. Dimitri kneels down before Claude to kiss it, as he so often does when they bare themselves for each other. Claude places a hand on Dimitri's head and runs his fingers through his hair. 

Once, he had told Dimitri it wasn't necessary to kiss him there — that it was in the past, and Claude had given him scars of his own. But Dimitri had murmured, "It is part of you, Claude. It is part of us." 

Now, Claude allows it — the warmth of his lips against the raised skin, and the careful caress of tongue down along the length of it, until Dimitri reaches his pants and frees him from them. 

Dimitri's breath is warm, wet, inviting. Claude gives into the temptation to arch backward as Dimitri's lips awaken him in full, trailing increasingly ardent nuzzles along his cock. He has nothing to hold on to for purchase, so he keeps his hand on Dimitri's head, which Dimitri must enjoy — because when Claude curls his fingers ever-so-slightly into a grip on his hair, he moans. 

"Dimitri," Claude breathes, because Dimitri has always liked to hear his name — has always wanted it upon Claude's lips. "Tonight —" 

Dimitri's tongue darts out to lick the head of his cock, which makes Claude gasp away the rest of his words. He has a playful side, Claude has quickly learned over these last months. 

Dimitri looks up with a smile. 

"Tonight," Claude tries again. "I want more." 

Because this is about more than just trying to tire each other out for bed. This is about the future they are creating together — and what it means to stand side by side as they greet it. 

Dimitri stands once again, albeit slowly, his hands moving from Claude's thighs to his hips. He helps Claude out of the rest of his clothes, preparing for what Claude has in mind, and promising, "I will give you everything." He says it so earnestly that Claude's heart is immediately fond — and his cock stirs yet again. 

They kiss, and Claude guides Dimitri to the bedroll. He eases him down onto it, maintaining contact with his lips and allowing his hands to roam. Then he tugs Dimitri out of his pants and underclothes, punctuating each action with nips all along Dimitri's neck and chest. 

Dimitri shivers with anticipation. Claude glances his hand over his hardening cock, then dips his fingers downward, skirting them along his balls and tracing the sensitive strip of skin behind them. Claude then runs his finger along Dimitri's rim, gently, then firmer, and watches as Dimitri goes from breathing to gasping, throwing back his head. 

Claude continues to tease Dimitri with his finger while reaching beneath the bedroll to locate the vial of oil he placed there earlier. Dimitri is too distracted by the tip of Claude's finger pressing against him to watch Claude coat himself, so Claude moans to further build his anticipation. 

Sufficiently lathered, Claude withdraws his finger and presses back Dimitri's legs, spreading him. Dimitri's thighs tremble and he raises his head to look at Claude, taking a breath and nodding to indicate that he's ready — that he wants this. He holds out his hand, and Claude grasps it. He holds it firmly as he positions himself and begins to push inside Dimitri. 

He's careful not to go too fast, though the tight heat of Dimitri's body envelops him easily, as though made for Claude. Claude breathes sharply now, nearly in tandem with Dimitri, who squeezes his hand when Claude bottoms out within him. 

Claude looks down at Dimitri. his face appears flush in the candlelight — peppered with the beginnings of sweat, his lip swollen from kisses and nips, hair mussed. His expression is openly affectionate — and openly wanting. 

Claude moves, each thrust slow, deliberate, passionate. He takes his time, savoring the way Dimitri feels, the way he reacts to Claude sliding within him. Dimitri savors him as well — his free hand squeezing Claude's ass, then pulling him closer, holding him, encouraging him. 

"Dimitri," Claude murmurs as he pulls back, then thrusts again, so he can hear Dimitri gasp with a new thrill of pleasure. 

" _Ah —_ " Dimitri breathes in response. " _C-Claude_ —" 

When Dimitri begins to tense beneath him, his thighs clenching around Claude, his body shaking with the approach of orgasm, Claude says it again: " _Dimitri_ ," and quickens his thrusts. 

Claude doesn't even need to touch him; he makes no move to grab his cock. Dimitri cries out and comes to the tune of his name on Claude's lips, spilling over himself and shuddering with the force of it. 

Seeing Dimitri in the throes of a climax drives Claude to the brink — it gives him what he needs to allow his own moment of open pleasure. He thrusts again, and again, until he loses rhythm at the peak, and comes, stifling a cry of his own. 

Not once does Dimitri release his hand — he holds Claude through it, and then continues to hold him thereafter. 

* * *

After, they lie together on the bedroll, Dimitri's arm around Claude, Claude's arm draped across Dimitri's chest. Dimitri looks down at his mark; he touches it, tracing the scar that now mars the symbol. 

"We've come far," Dimitri says quietly. 

"We have," Claude agrees. 

"To think we almost destroyed each other..." 

"We did destroy each other, in a way," Claude replies. "By deciding to stand with each other, we ended our old selves." Dimitri left his darkness behind to step into the light, and Claude is learning to open up to others in ways he never had before. "I don't know if we would have made it here without everything that came before it." 

Perhaps the fighting had been necessary, as part of their personal journeys and the paths they needed to take to reach each other again. Perhaps they had to be driven to a breaking point in order to see the necessity for change. 

"I suppose that is true." Dimitri's arm tightens around him. 

"Maybe they should be called soulmarks instead of enemy marks," Claude jokes, idlying trailing his fingers along Dimitri's chest. "Pass the trial of your soulmark and in return, you get true love." 

Dimitri chuckles, his chest rising and falling beneath Claude. "I do not think that will catch on." 

Hearing Dimitri laugh always makes Claude smile. "Maybe not." 

After a moment, Dimitri speaks again. "If this goes well tomorrow. I would like to make good on a promise I made you all those years ago." 

"Oh yeah?" Claude asks. "What promise is that?" 

"I would like to formally court you, if you will allow me." 

Surely Dimitri already knows his answer, given that Claude is strewn atop him like this — given how they caress each other and speak of a joint future. But Claude gives it anyway, because after years of stifling his feelings and refusing to allow them to reach his lips, it's what Dimitri deserves to hear. 

And it's what he truly wants to say. 

"Dimitri," he says, looking up at him. "I would love nothing more." 

They kiss, and then kiss again. 

And whether the marks on their skin should be called _soulmarks_ or _enemy marks_ hardly matters. The bond that they share will continue to grow regardless. 

Because Claude always has and always will love Dimitri — 

and Dimitri loves him in turn.


End file.
